


Super Nanny

by mettaverse



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Single Parent Shiro, Trans Character, kid keith, nanny lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-10-23 13:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mettaverse/pseuds/mettaverse
Summary: Shiro has come back from war crippled- his arm is gone, PTSD rules his life, and he barely remembers how to smile. His wife, unable to handle the state Shiro came home in, has left him with their son Keith.Thus enters Lance, the new nanny. His job, technically, is to take care of Keith at all times. But seeing Shiro, how sad he is, how broken, prompts Lance to personally take over Shiro's life, trying hard to help him pick up the pieces of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so! this is my first fanfiction ever so i'm a bit nervous. i am also TERRIBLE at summaries apparently; this is going to be a cute fic that i really wanna have fun with basically and i hope you guys have fun with me too.  
> i would love it if you guys told me what you think, how to improve, all that stuff! ALSO!  
> i would love it if you guys told me what you think should happen next, or what you guys wanna see!!

It took a lot of it. Of the pain. Of the loss. Before Shiro was able to get used to it.

Before, it came in as flashes into his life- a lost friend or family member, sickness, loss of a job or significant other. And it hurt, god it hurt, every single time. But he got up. And he moved on with his life, because the pain was just that- flashes, little moments of time pocketed into a life worth living. Worth smiling over, worth feeling warm. 

It's not flashes anymore. It's not brief and intense, it doesn't leave him with any philosophical lesson to implement- it's constant, like a shroud over his head, like the scars running over his body. He moves with it. Lives with it. Becomes it.

He just didn't expect it to affect Keith. I mean, how couldn’t it?- he was right there through it all, but he was so small, barely up to his father's shin- how could he feel the pain that Shiro does? How could he be left gasping in the middle of the night as if the war had happened all over again? 

But pain looks different on everyone, and Shiro, like the asshole he is, didn't notice how it painted its way of Keith's features. On his life.

The fights he got in to at school. The bullying. Slipping grades. How he would storm off without a word once he got home every single day and not spare Shiro a glance like he was nothing, like he was an ornament on the wall. 

But it was their life. He got used to it. He forgot that life could be lived without this pain until an emergency parent teacher conference peeled him away from work in the middle of the week. “You understand, Mr. Shirogane,” they started, “Keith is a very bright boy. If he had a better home life, he'd be better, too.”

So that was it. He was blind to it. And at first he didn't understand it and didn't want to- who the fuck was that teacher anyway? She didn't know his son- but she was with him five days a week, seven hours a day. She was there for each bruised knee and paper cut, each failing grade and perfect score; she saw him grow from month to month, helped him into becoming into the next stages of his life.

And where had Shiro had been? 

Something had to change. If he couldn't be there for his son, if he couldn't make him the best man he could be, then someone else had to. It was a shortcut, a way out (Mr. Takashi Shirogane, the over achiever, the best of his class, the best of his generation- where was he now?) but there was no other choice. He worked. He went to therapy. And he struggled with being a single dad while fighting back nightmares every time the sun went down. 

So that's how he got here. Looking over applicants with a keen eye, having interview after interview but none of them were right- too eager, too naive, too inexperienced; too harsh, too unloving. 

Matt practically ripped away the applications on the second week before he got his own applicant sitting at the table a few days later, a bright smile on his face and a clear “I Told You So” smile.

He was in his twenties, a college drop out living in some shamble apartment with his friends over in the “bad” side of the city. Shiro looked him over once again- at his clothes, in particular, who wears black skinny jeans to a job interview?  
He looks down at his own slacks and button up shirt. Does he even have jeans anymore? At all? 

Jesus, was he getting old? 

“So, why should I hire you over all the other applicants?” he asks.

Lance doesn't hesitate. “Well, because of my good looks and amazing personality, obviously.” A pause. “And, because I'm one of six kids. I know how to handle them.”

“And the others didnt? Some were quite reputable.”

“Maybe they were, but, it's hard to know how to handle someone else's child when you haven't handled your own. My mom was a single mom working three jobs to help support all of us, so I had to be there for them. All of them. It was no big deal-”

“It sounds like a big deal. How old were you when you started?”

“When I was seven. My little sister was born in fourth place, and the other kids had already gone off to college to live their lives so. I was there. And Keith's kinda like her- big spirited.”

“You think he's big spirited?”

Lance grins at him. “Uh, yeah, duh. He looked like he was going to fight me when I came in. I think he still wants to fight me, actually.”

Shiro barely suppresses a smile, but his heart aches, too. Is that how his son is? How would he even know? “So what makes you different from the other applicants, then? What did raising your siblings teach you?”

Lance takes a breath. “With some nannies, they just act like the kid is a job. And he's not, you know? I mean, technically taking care of him is a job, but it shouldn't be about that. The money. He's a person, just tiny and fiesty. But a person. With my siblings, people were surprised that we actually got along- my friends treated their own siblings like a chore. But I didn't. Because that's just- that's just not right, you know?” Another breath. “Keith deserves to have a good life, and to have someone watch over him that's able to do so. Not for the money but so Keith can be happy. Feel loved. That's what he needs. And I can do that. Not that- not that you're not making him feel loved-”

“No, you're right. He does need that. And I don’t think I’m making him feel loved enough.”

Lance shrugs. There's no pity in his eyes, none at all. “Parenting is hard, man. But you're trying. You're interviewing me for Christ's sakes- you obviously love him enough to go through that! Cut yourself a break. Matt told me-”

Haaaaaaalt. Shiro grits his teeth. “Wait. You know Matt?”

“Um, yeah! Well, I know his little sister, Pidge, and I guess she told him about me and he told me about you. Or that's what...I thought happened?”

Fuck Matt.

Shiro takes a deep, deep breath. “Let me make a call real quick.”

*

“I don't like the idea of you going behind my back, Matt-”

“Well, technically, I didn't. Besides, don't you like him? He's better than those snooty nannies you interviewed last week, right?”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Matt….”

“C'mon, say it. C'moooooon.” Shiro can practically feel his stupid smile leaking through the receiver.

“Fine. He's good.” 

Matt laughs, victorious and proud. “You're welcome, asshat. Now go give him the job before I go over and do it for you.”

“Jackass.”

When Shiro comes back Lance is fighting to stay still, his fists stuck in his jeans and his foot tapping wildly on the wood floors. He looks so nervous sitting there, especially once he catches Shiro's eyes. “I didn't mean to cause trouble-”

Shiro raises his hands before he realizes he's actually laughing. When was the last time he did that? “No, no. Matt is just a dick sometimes.”

Lance grins. “Yeah, I love him for that.” Shiro's heart skips a beat- jealousy? No, that's stupid.

But he's staring at Lance and his smile, how it breaks open his face and lets light flood the room. How his cheeks are warm underneath copper skin. A word flashes in his mind and he's quick to scuff it out- clears his throat- “When can you move in?”

And somehow his smile grows, and Shiro feels warm all over, from his head to his toes.

The word comes back, small in the back of his mind-

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

*

Lance comes with a rucksack and a guitar case strapped to his back and nothing else. Really, he had no furniture- he slept on an inflatable mattress on the floor of the living room, and for some reason he really, really didn’t want Shiro to see that. Or to see how many grease stains were on it from watching Netflix with popcorn at 3 AM.

He's almost immediately met with Keith, standing with his arms crossed and dark eyebrows furrowed. “Whatcha doing here?” He asks. “None of the other ones came back.”

Lance kneeled down in front of him and looked around before whispering, “Can you keep a secret?” Keith nodded, cautious. “I convinced your dad to let me stay here with you. So I can bring you to ice cream and the park and watch movies all the time. Your dad is very hard to convince, but I did it. And I scared away the other nannies. They were too boring and honestly, had very, very bad taste in movies and ice cream. Is that okay?”

Keith takes a moment to consider, chewing the inside of his cheek before letting out a small smile. “Yeah. Only if I can get ice cream every weekend. And you don't make me eat peas.”

“Deal.” Lance holds out his hand and Keith shakes it, smiling a little brighter than before.

Shiro clears his throat from behind him. How long had he been there? His face is a clean slate, neutral, business like. “Let me show you around, Lance.” Lance jumps up to his feet and smiles down at Keith, ruffling his hair. Keith lets out a puff of air and Lance laughs before following Shiro through the house.

It's a beautiful home- dark wood floors, high ceilings and a beautiful wide staircase leading to the second floor. There's three bedrooms here- Shiro's, Keith's, and the guest bedroom. Small, for a man with literally millions of dollars, but Lance doesn't mind. It's cozy in a way that other homes aren't. 

Shiro leads him to the last room down the hall, opening the door for him to step in. Lance can't help but smile- “This is for me?”

Lance swears Shiro smiles for a moment, just a moment, before clearing his throat and nodding. “Everything here is yours.”

The floors here are carpeted white, the walls a dark navy blue. The bed is a queen size, bigger than anything he's had before. Perched on a dark wood dresser infront of the bed is a TV, “You can use that all you like,” Shiro says, “as long as it doesn't wake Keith up and isn't, ah, inappropriate.”

Lance nods. “Definitely no porn here, mister boss man. Way too nice of a room for that.” Lance is too busy walking over to his own bathroom to hear Shiro cough. “And my own bathroom? Really?”

The tiles are black, giving the bathroom a sleek, modern look. The bath tub is something he's only seen in fancy hotel rooms he used to sneak into- large, probably fitting two people easily. There's even a walk in shower and everything. Lance can't help the smile splitting open his face. “This is awesome.”

Shiro waits a moment before clearing his throat again. “Let me show you the rest of the home. You'll be needing to know where everything is.”

The rest of the home is just as impressive- a sitting room for guests, state of the art kitchen just beyond that; spacious living room, neat laundry room; study for Shiro and a smaller, childish “study” for Keith to do homework in. fuck, they even have a theater room. 

Then it's the schedule. Keith goes to school at 8:30 every day, and gets dropped off by the bus at 3:30. when he gets home he's expected to have a snack and a two hour break time before starting on his homework. Then the in between time before dinner is open. “You can do whatever as long as you ask me first. I'm fine with the park and the movies and what not, but if it's anything else, please ask me first.”

Lance nods. “No strip clubs, then?” He snaps his fingers. “Darn.”

Shiro actually snorts at that, “No, no strip clubs unless they have a ball pit and oversized rodents in street clothes.” 

“Roger that, boss man.”

Shiro's actually smiling at him, which is weird, because it makes Lance's heart twinge. Perfect teeth, white and straight- but why does he look so sad when he smiles? The nurturer in him wants to grab Shiro, pull him into a hug and not let go. The logical side of him says that's a fucking stupid idea, dumbass. But still, his heart tugs. 

“You can call me Shiro, Lance.” Lance grins at that and Shiro's eyebrows jump just for a moment before his business voice comes back. “I leave the house at around 6 AM and come back at 10 PM, sometimes later, sometimes a little earlier, depending on the work load. So you'll have to deal with Keith's meals, and make sure he gets to bed before 10. I don't want him staying up late on school nights.”

Lance nods, mentally shoving the information in his brain. “When do you have days off?” He asks. “I'm sure Keith would love to have meal with you sometimes. I can even cook for you, if you pretend it's good so my feelings don't get hurt.”

Shiro almost looks pained at that. “I- I just-” he runs a hand over his face before taking a deep breath. “It's...complicated, with Keith. He doesn't- he hasn't been coping well since his mother left, and I guess he's not used to me yet, since I was gone for so long. He doesn't really...enjoy sitting down with me for meals. So I don't take many days off, since he doesn't want me to.” Idiot. Stupid. What were you thinking, spilling all that out on some random kid? He doesn't deserve to see how much of a failure you are, a worthless father-

But Lance interrupts that line of thought by placing a hand on Shiro's shoulder. “Hey,” he says, voice gentle, soothing, “Keith is a kid. He doesn't know what to do with complicated feelings yet. But he loves you. And you love him. So if you try, it'll end up okay. Especially since you have a dorky comic relief living with you.” He winks at Shiro and Shiro barely suppresses a laugh- laugh of nervousness, laugh of relief, laugh of- Jesus Christ what is he going to do with this man?

Warmth from Lance's hand spreads through Shiro's shirt, warming him. Lance's gentle smile is still in place, eyes understanding and free of judgment. His heart leaps. I'm so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah! i didn't expect all the positive things i've been getting!! that's so cool omg !!!
> 
> this one is a bit of a doozy but i hope you like it anyway. ALSO! i would love a beta reader. and someone to just bounce ideas off of. so if you wanna humor me and my ideas then you should message me !!! 
> 
> and, as always, if you guys wanna see something happen, tell me and i'll see what i can do!! really this isn't very plot driven and i'm making this up as i go, so your ideas are absolutely welcome!! AND come see me at my tumblr (bluelioncub.tumblr.com) !! talk to me!! we can talk about shance and cry and hold hands and stuff. none of my friends like voltron so it'd be amazing to actually have someone to talk to about it and ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It starts off with a phone call.

3 o'clock on the dot- Keith would be home soon from school, Lance thought, before he picked up his phone and saw it was the school. Lance answered it, immediately blasted with the annoyed, obviously judgmental voice of Keith's kindergarten teacher. 

Keith lost his temper and had a tantrum. Threw a book at the teacher and tried to bite a kid's head off- literally. “If his _father_ could answer his phone then maybe we could settle this professionally but unfortunately, you're the only one I can call.”

Ouch. Shitting on the nanny much- was that a new required course the teachers had to take at this snooty private school? But Lance smoothed on his most respectable, plastic smile that practically squeaked when he explained Shiro was out on a business trip out of the country, which apparently didn't matter to Ms. I Eat Nannies For Breakfast, and said his goodbyes.

So that's how he's here, standing a few feet away from those beautiful, dark double doors, hands on his hips feigning dominance he knows he doesn't have. He was used to dealing out lectures to his own siblings, but to Keith? When did he know enough was enough? He imagined Shiro's steely gaze and thick finger wagging at him in disappointment and shivered- he really didn't want to get fired his fourth day of being on the job.

Keith steps through the door a few minutes before 3:30, and before Lance could even open his mouth, threw down his dinosaur backpack and shoes against the wall. 

“Hey, now, kiddo. The wall didn't do anything to you.” Keith turns with all the fury a five-year-old could muster that immediately diminishes Lance's faux parenting bravado. Ouch. “What's up?”

“None of your business! I'm not mad! Shut up! Go away!” Keith's practically panting, tiny hands balled up into fists.

Lance blinks. “Um, first- it is my business when your teacher calls me and chews my ear off. Second,” Lance kneels down to be eye level with the child. His voice softens. “If you want me to leave you alone, that's all you have ot tell me. Do you want to be alone and cool off? Think you'll feel better?”

“No! Yes! Maybe! I don't know!” Keith's eyes fill with frustrated tears. “I wanna break Alex's face off! I wanna do that!”

Lance sucks in a breath to explain how exactly he could not do that when Keith storms off to the kitchen. “I wanna eat! I wanna do that, too!” Lance sighs. Luckily he already had a snack out for him on a plate in the kitchen so-

Glass shatters. Lance winces. The house falls into a petrified silence as Lance slowly pads over to the kitchen, only to find the corpse of a white plate on the ground. Lance steps on a now deformed baby carrot on his way to a still petulant Keith who's very, very bad at hidding the guilt in his face. “I'm- I guess I'm sor-”

Lance holds up a hand. “No, no...actually...” his eyes wanders to the dish cabinet. “This is...a good idea, Keith.” He looks down to a bewildered Keith only to grin in response and lift him onto his hip. “Your daddy has enough plates to feed an army, anyway.” 

After some coaxing Lance brought a stack of plates and a confused Keith outside to the backyard facing the back o the house. “So, you know how you said you wanted to break Alex's face?” Keith nods, absolutely unashamed. “Well, that's illegal.” Keith squints. “Meaning it's against the law to do. And you'll go to jail.” Keith seems he wants to tear the establishment board from board before Lance hands him a dinner plate. “Dumb, right? But breaking plates isn't illegal. So go on. Get that aggression out.”

Lance steps back and gestures to the house, a grin splitting his face. “Seriously, it'll make you feel better. And I promise not to tell your dad.” Keith squints his signature squint before hesitantly tossing the plate towards the house.

It falls with a resounding thump.

“Boo! Not like that! C'mon! I know you're angry little guy, so go off! Show 'em!”

Keith throws the plate with more force, earning a resounding shatter.

“Woohoo! Keep going, buddy!”

Plate after plate is chucked, sometimes accompanied by a mighty battle screech, sometimes not, but it takes a full thirty minutes before the little guy is on the floor panting, a smile stretched on his flushed face.

“Feel better?”

A quick decisive nod.

“Good. Let's get you inside before the plates decide to get revenge.” And this time Keith even giggles when Lance scoops him up, presses his face against Lance's chest and holds onto his shirt with chubby fists.

Lance can't fight off the grin when they get into the house. He sits down, still holding Keith loosely as he scrambles into a sitting position in Lance's lap. Lance is still smiling when he starts, “So, got a call from your teacher today.”

Keith gulps, too worn out to run off again. 

“Told me you had a fit and tried to eat another kid. Alex, I'm guessing? And then threw a book at her. Can you tell me why?”

“'Cause he was being mean! And he's always mean and Mrs. Adamson doesn't even tattle to his parents about it! He pulled my hair she didn't do anything and I just got so- so!-”

“Sounds like you got really angry there, huh?”

“I did! And I just- I just bit his stupid finger. And then the teacher yelled so I threw my stupid book at her. And then I got sent to the time out zone and had to eat lunch in the classroom. But Alex didn't!”

“You're right, that kid does sound like a big jerk. And your teacher sounded scared me a lil, no joke. Thought she was gonna crawl through the phone and eat me.” Keith giggles before clapping his hands over his mouth. “But even though you were angry doesn't mean you had to do that.”

“I know. Daddy told me it's not nice to hit other kids but I don't care about that! Why do they get to hurt me and I don't get to hurt back? That's stupid. Daddy's stupid.”

“Well, no, daddy's not stupid. He just didn't explain it right.” Lance sighs, tucking Keith closer to his chest. “When I was little, I cried a lot. Like, an embarrassing amount. I cried when I was happy and when I was sad and angry and scared. And kids loved to make fun of me for it, and the teachers loved to ignore it because I was just a crybaby, so no big deal. So I started acting out. Hitting my siblings. Hitting the kids. I hurt them back, but do you think I was happy?”

“Guess not.”

“You guess right. I wasn't happy at all, and everyone noticed. Especially my mami, who sat me down and said,” Lance does his best mom voice, perfect with her light Cuban accent, “' _Lance, do you like being sad?_ ' And I said no mami, thinking I was in for a punishment. But instead, she just told me something very important.” Lance leans back, catching Keith's eyes with his own. “It's fine to be upset. To be angry and hurt. You can't not feel that, no matter how hard you try. But you can control it. Because if you don't, you'll just end up sadder and angrier. Like how you did today.” Keith tries to look away but Lance pokes him right in between the eyes, earning a squint. Lance smiles at him. “What Alex did wasn't alright. And what your teacher did wasn't alright either. But most importantly, you being so upset and angry isn't alright. You can be angry and not hit the kids. But you can be angry and come home and break some plates and then go be alright. You can be angry but still control yourself. Cause I want you to be happy, okay?”

Keith sniffs loudly, his lip wobbling. “But when I come home there's nothing to do. Just homework and books and TV. Sometimes toys are fun but sometimes I'm too angry to play with toys.” He turns to Lance, “What did you to do when you were little like me?”

“I got a guitar and just...started learning on my own. It's nice, because you get to create something, you know?” A smile squirms itself back on Lance's face. “I just- music makes me so happy, Keith. You listen to it and you get to hear everything someone wants to say but can't, cause sometimes it's too hard. And people do that in different ways, and all of those ways are beautiful, too. So when I came home, upset and hurt, being able to make something beautiful made me happy. And it still makes me happy.”

Keith stares at Lance for a long time- just like his dad, Jesus Christ, with those eyes that seem so intent at finding something, searching. Apparently content with his findings, Keith nods. “I wanna do that, then.”

Lance can't help but laugh. “Sure, but let's get that belly filled, Mister Plate Destroyer. And clean up that mess before your daddy kills me, alright?”

*

He's not expecting it. Nobody calls his personal, save for angry teachers and raving Matt's, much less texts him- but somehow, Lance manages to break Shiro's normal day to day life literally every single day. The fuck.

It's just a picture- a selfie?- of Lance and Keith. Lance giving that blow-up smile of his and Keith, for the first time Shiro has seen him, is actually giggling, face flushed with happiness. His hands grip a small, child-sized guitar, a guitar Shiro specifically does not remember getting him. “ _Next Carlos Santana in the making!_ ” The text reads. 

And he's not expecting this either. The twist in his gut, the warmth that spills out into his entire body- his son is smiling, laughing, being _happy._ Those big dark eyes of his filled with childlike glee and for once, for once, Shiro feels like he's done something right. Lance, some college drop out he barely knew, was getting through to Keith in ways Shiro had never been able to do before. 

Maybe Shiro is a worthless father. Maybe he's garbage, a deadbeat, maybe he's the type of father Keith will write angry poetry about and spit on in rants with his friends. But this, this smile, this was only thing Shiro has helped with, the only achievement he can boast. He really should call up Matt and kiss his ass for a bit but honestly, Matt does not need any more ego inflation- it would have catastrophic effects and honestly, Shiro is not ready for taking on that responsibility. But still. That smile. Those flushed cheeks. Little baby hands gripping a guitar. 

And next to him. Those bright blue eyes, copper skin; wavy hair framing high cheekbones. His heart clenches, beats a happy tune- _these boys are gonna be the death of me,_ he thinks. Shiro puts the picture as his screen saver before shutting it off, drifting into sleep as the plane prepares to lift off and drag him back home.

Distantly, he wonders if that smile will still be there when he gets home. 

*

When he does get home, it's to a giggling mess. The minute he steps through the door he hears guitars playing, slowly, as Lance calms down a laughing Keith. “Let's try it again, alright my man?” Lance says. And Shiro doesn't even hear an argument from Keith, just an excited hum before the child guitar stuttering back to life.

Shiro quietly slips off his shoes and coat and pads his way over to the living room- _sneaking around in my own house, Jesus Christ_ \- but he can't help but smile to himself, cause Christ, when was the last time he actually got to hear that laugh? And Christ, when was the last time his heart thrummed so happily? 

He gets to the living room and stands a distance away. Lance has his own guitar out, a little beat up with various stickers plastered onto the wood. His fingers move from chord to chord with ease, but each time Keith struggles he leans over, acts like the world's greatest teacher. “So, what you're gonna do is stretch that finger waaaay over here. It's gonna be a little hard, but I know you can do it.” Keith sticks his tongue out and squints in pure concentration as his pinky finger struggles over to the first string while his other fingers carefully reposition themselves into a chord. He strums and a small sound comes out, and for a moment Keith looks disappointed before Lance grins up at him. “Look at that! You're getting it already! You worked really hard to do that, huh, bud?” Keith grins up and there's that flush again.

And that's when Shiro is caught. Lance sees him and lights up. “Hey there stranger!” He calls. He turns to Keith. “Look who snuck in on us!” Keith slowly puts down his guitar but doesn't make a move towards Shiro. And Shiro doesn't mind much- it's normal. It's their life. No hugging, no relief to see his father- he's used to it, and knows deep down he deserves it. 

Which doesn't stop Lance, who hoists Keith up onto his hip and saunters over to Shiro. Shiro doesn't have a moment to even react before Lance wraps his free arm around Shiro's middle, prompting a very hesitant Keith to do the same with both arms. “Welcome back, Shiro,” Lance says into Shiro's chest. 

Fuck, can Lance hear his heart beat like that? He hopes not, because currently, his heart is slamming against his ribcage trying to escape. Carefully he hugs both of them back, pressing a kiss into Keith's hair, and surprisingly, Keith doesn't recoil like he normally does. Lance pulls back and Shiro even makes the bold move to pick Keith up and hold him himself, and after exchanging a private look with Lance, Keith leans into Shiro. Not quite hugging, but it's one hellova start. 

“How was the flight?” Lance asks. 

Shiro shrugs. “Long. I was asleep for most of it.” He turns his attention to Keith. “I did, however, get a picture from Lance. You're learning guitar? When did that happen?”

Keith gives his own shrug, not looking at his dad. “I just got bored, I guess. School is boring. But guitar isn't.”

“I figured that doing something productive after school would be good for him. Give him something to focus on, you know?” Lance ruffles Keith's hair, eliciting a huff from Keith. Lance just smiles. “Hope that's okay.”

“Okay? That's better than okay, Lance.” Shiro looks back at Keith. “And it sounds like you're getting the hang of it, too. I'm really proud that you're trying out something new, Keith. It's good for you.”

Keith flushes and mumbles something before forcing his way back to the floor. “I'm hungry,” he announces. 

Shiro could only watch fondly as his son trotted his way to the kitchen before realizing he was alone. With Lance. Shiro cleared his throat, trying to put his most business-like face on. “Lance,” he started.

And then Lance turned to him, head tilted to the side with a small smile already on his face. Shiro's breath hitched, his business facade dropping almost immediately. Apparently, this is another one of Lance's abilities. “I. I just- wanted to thank you. For what you're doing with Keith. He's a lot happier than I've seen him for a while.”

Lance actually blushes, pink decorating the tips of his ears and nose. “Ah, no big deal, man. Keith is a good kid. A little feisty, sure, but a good kid. I'm glad to be able to help out.”

Shiro shakes his head, grabs Lance's shoulder and squeezes it. “I'm serious, Lance,” he says, “it is a big deal. And it means the world to me. Thank you.”

And if Lance's flush deepens, Shiro doesn't mention it. And if Shiro's heart nearly breaks at the sight, Lance doesn't mention it either. He lets his hand stay on Lance's shoulder for one tick, two, before sliding off. The lack of heat against his hand is disgustingly apparent.

“You must be starving,” Lance says, finally breaking the silence. “Let's get something into that belly of yours.” And he actually _grabs Shiro's hand_ and leads him to the kitchen. And Shiro, the dumb, idiot he is, can't manage to say a word, can't even find it in himself to yank his hand back, because since when do people touch him? He's scarred. Ugly. Broken.

But here they are, in his kitchen, with his son smiling in his seat. Here they are, with Lance singing under his breath, the sound trickling into Shiro's veins. 

And here he is, smiling a smile he didn't know existed. Looking at Lance, something told him it might just be okay in the end.

To be helpful, Shiro goes over to the cabinet to grab the plates and frowns immediately. “Hey, where did half of the dinner plates go?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mall trip, burgers, and wine oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD GUYS I AM THE BIGGEST ASSHOLE EVER I AM SO SORRY
> 
> i've just been so busy with school that i'm stressing over and also i've been planning a new shance story that's. a lot more dark and sad and serious than this one is. it's gonna be a series, too, and i've been worrying over it for a while now because i really wanna start it but i'm still in the planning stages and stuff but i felt super bad about being so inactive so here's a really long chapter and i hope you guys forgive me and i love you all!!!

So, normally, Lance wakes up on Saturday mornings at 10, fresh and ready to go (that's a lie: he is absolutely not ready to go and not fresh and it takes him, at least, half an hour to be able to get his hair nice and his breath into non-toxic ranges.) Keith trudges down around 11, because for some reason the kid doesn't actually believe in adhering to a bedtime and insists on staying up until 9, a very horrifying time for a five year old to be up until. They have breakfast, watch cartoons, and then go play outside if the weather permits and it is _fantastic._

 Today, though, he is up at _six in the fucking morning_ because some asshole decided to play “let's annoy the shit out of Lance at the asscrack of dawn.” He woke up to the sounds of two pairs of feet scuffing around on the hardwood floors, no doubt scratching it. He listens intently, squinting, until he hears a chair clatter down onto the floor. _What the ever living fuck._ Lance jams his feet in his signature fluffy lion slippers and, as quietly as he can, marches his ass down the stairs to the dining room. If this is a robber or hitman he is going to give them a _piece of his mind._

 Lance rounds the corner and sees a very tired Shiro and a very angry Matt. Shiro's barely propped up on the table, his head bent and his body swaying, while Matt stands over him with his hands on his hips growling. Lance's heart stutters. “Is he okay?” Shiro's head whips up and he winces. The bags are nearly black under his eyes, a thick carpet of stubble invading the lower half of his face. He looks pale as shit, too, like he's been holed up in his office without looking out the window once. Probably hasn't, actually. Lance storms over. “Are you okay? What happened?”

 Matt throws his arms up. “This asshole here passed out at work,” he growls, glaring at Shiro.

 Shiro winces again. “Okay, not passed out-”

 Matt scoffs. “Is 'surprise nap' the correct term, dipshit? Or 'trust fall with a 30 second recharge time'?”

 “You're being dramatic-”

 “You're being a pain in my-”

 Lance claps his hands, silencing the both of them. “You,” he points sternly at Matt and relishes the fact he actually flinches. “Why isn't Shiro at the hospital?”

 “Because he refused.”

 “And why didn't you make him?”

 “Because he can kill me with a violent sneeze, Lance.”

 “Not a good answer-”

 Shiro's feeble voice speaks up at Lance's elbow. “Lance, I'm fine-”

 “And you!” Lance shoves his finger in Shiro's chest and Shiro looks a little scared. _Good._ “When was the last time you slept?”

 “Uh,” Shiro says intelligently.

 Lance squints. “Uh?” he repeats.

 Shiro wipes his palm against his face and Lance can hear him mumbling quietly into the flesh of it before he pops back out. “When I. Passed out. I suppose. That would be…yeah. Then. That would be when,” he answers.

 Lance holds the bridge of his nose. Breathes in. breathes out. Counts the alphabet backwards. “Go upstairs to your room.”

 Lance can hear the snort from Matt and a, “are you fucking kidding me” humorless laugh from Shiro. “Lance-”

 Lance doesn't let him finish. “Go upstairs. To your room. Shiro.” He bites off each word and keeps eyecontact doing it. Shiro chews on his bottom lip and actually looks like he's going to argue for a second until Lance raises a brow. A second more passes until Shiro grumbles and pushes himself off the table, dragging his feet up the stairs. Lance waits until he hears the quiet click of his bedroom door before turning back to Matt. “How long has he been working like this?”

 Matt shrugs a shoulder. “Since he came out of the womb.” Lance isn't impressed. Matt clears his throat. “Uh, all past this week.”

 “Any reason why?”

 Another shrug, this time with a click of his tongue. “Don't know,” Matt says. “Couldn't tell you.”

 Lance is a great liar. He once stole his sister's shirts and made a rope out of it to sneak out of the house and told his sister, straight to her face, that someone must have broken in and used the shirts to get away. And she believed him. Matt, however, couldn't lie his way out of a paper bag. His chin is raised like it's a challenge, eyes guarded. But it's not really his business, now is it? He sighs, defeated. “Alright, well. I'm keeping him here for the weekend. He's gonna recharge.”

 “Well, that's all well and good but how are you gonna make him stay here? You're a stringbean.”

 “Okay, one, fuck you, I am the beefiest stringbean you have ever seen _don't lie to yourself.”_ Matt raises his arms in mock surrender. _“_ Two, I'll figure it out. Go home and go to sleep, Matt.” Matt, thankfully, doesn't spare a second before breathing out and sprinting outside.

 

*

Shiro and Keith actually get up at the same time and in the same exact manner: as if they don't know what the fuck is going on at all. Keith's wearing his signature squint and Shiro's doing his own version, which is somehow cuter? What the fuck? They even bump into the same corners and then glare at said corners like _they're_ the asshole in the situation, which, okay, sometimes they are. Lance has stubbed his toe at least twelve times in the two months he's been working.

 Keith bumps into the back of Shiro's leg and blinks up at him. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

 “I live here.”

 “Not really.”

 Shiro and Keith have a squint off until Shiro decides it's too early in the morning and sighs. “I got si-”

 “Papa decided he's gonna spend the weekend with us!” Lance gives Shiro a pointed, “play along” glance. “Isn't that great?”

 Keith is quiet, looking between the two men. “Why?”

 “Because we're his two favorite boys, _duh._ And you need clothes since you grew ten feet over night.”

 Keith tries to do the math in his head. “Ten whole feet? That's a lot of feet.”

 “It is! So make yourself some cereal and we can start our day, alright?”

 Keith scrubs at his eyes but nods along and shuffles over to the table. Shiro turns to Lance with his eyebrows up to his hairline. “Does he do that all the time?”

 “Do what all the time?”

 “Listen? Just- just all the time?”

 “Most of the time, yeah, but not all of the time. Sometimes he pouts and mumbles even though Mister Nanny is right in absolutely all situations.” He gives Shiro a pointed look. “I wonder where that's from, hmmm?”

 Shiro actually blushes. “Lance- you can't just-” he moves his hands around in front of him. “Just- you know-”

 “Tell you what to do?”

 Shiro throws his hands up. “Yes!”

 “Well, I'm gonna. And you know what you're gonna do?” Lance pokes Shiro's nose. “Deal-with-it.”

 Shiro opens his mouth and then closes it and opens it again until Keith starts giggling. They both turn and Shiro's mouth stays open. “Yeah, papa, you're gonna deal-with-it.”

 Shiro looks like he just witnessed a star being born, staring at his kid. _When was the last time Shiro even heard him laugh?_ Too long ago, apparently, because Shiro's eyes mist over before he smiles, so shaky it hurts. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

 Keith finishes up his cereal while Lance and Shiro both finish up their coffee and very adult Poptarts before bouncing up the stairs to get changed (“He does that? All by himself?” “All by himself!”) Lance stands and takes Shiro's hand, tugging him up the stairs. “So is there a reason why you're a zombie?”

 Shiro surprisingly doesn't pull his hand away. He doesn't look at Lance either, eyes resolutely on anything but his face. “I'm not a zombie-”

 “You look like you could eat brains any second now. Very expensive, posh brains.” Lance hears Shiro snort. “Don't do that! If you laugh too hard you'll give yourself a heart attack and I'm not emotionally mature enough to handle that correctly.”

 They get to Shiro's room and Lance realises it's the first time he's actually been in here. It's nice; sleek, black hardwood floors spanning the entire room with some expensive, simple rugs thrown in. the bed looks big enough to house Shiro, Lance, and Keith with room to spare ( _why would you even imagine yourself in his bed what the fuck Lance)_ but the whole thing looks so...sterile. Not like a room in a home but a display in a dollhouse; beautiful and too expensive to be played with. Lance lets go of Shiro's hand and goes over to the huge walk in closet and opens it up only to find that the only clothing Shiro owns is variations of suits. That's it. “Shiro, why do you dress like you're the main character from Death of a Salesman?”

 He hears Shiro sit on the bed behind him and laugh. “They're nice suits, Lance.”

 “They are nice suits! But here's the thing- you have to wear something that doesn't make you look like a sugar daddy all the time.”

 “Aren't I technically your sugar daddy? You do have my credit card.”

 “Not the point! You're only, what, in your late thirties?” There's a long, pregnant pause before Lance turns around to see Shiro with the biggest shit eating grin in the world. “Holy shit you're not in your late thirties. How old are you?”

 “Guess.”

 “The only plausible answer I can think of is that you're a vampire from the late 1800's.” Lance points an accusatory finger at him. “If you're gonna sparkle in the sunlight I'll be so pissed.”

 “No sparkling, trust me. I'm turning thirty one in a few months.”

 Lance's voice goes high. “You're thirty and you're the CEO of your own company? Are you serious, Mister Gray? Is this real life? Do you have a red room somewhere?”

 “I don't understand any of those references but I'm glad I don't.” Shiro's still laughing, eyes full of mirth and Lance's heart really, really shouldn't squeeze at the sight of it. He bites his bottom lip to keep from leaning forward and- _bad Lance! Down, boy!_

 Shiro, completely unaware of Lance's bisexual crisis, continues. “I graduated high school very early. I did college work until I was 18 and joined up in the military. They paid for my schooling after that; undergrad, grad school, all that.” His eyes are distant, now. “Only good thing it did for me, I guess.” There's a pause before he shakes himself out of it. “Anyway, after the accident I came back and joined Matt when he took over his father's business. We revamped it, made it to what it is today. But, yeah. Not a vampire. Just thirty.”

  _Just thirty._ The man in front of him with a scar slashed across his face; the man with hands that don't know how to hold his child, don't know how to do anything but work for a business that he knows better than himself, better than anything in the world. The man who had his arm ripped from him, had his entire world destroyed by the blast of a mine under his feet. _Just thirty._ Shiro sees him staring and tilts his head, forehead creased. Lance forces a smile. “Well then, I can't have you dressing like you're anything above thirty. You're getting new clothes.”

 Shiro barks a laugh of surprise. “Is that an order?”

 "Yes it is, sugar daddy! C'mon, put on your least expensive clothes and let's go.”

 Shiro's laughing again around a groan. “Never, ever call me sugar daddy again. Ever.”

 “You started it.” Shiro's still laughing so Lance leans down and pokes his nose again. “We're gonna get you clothes and you're gonna be the cutest little hipster in all the mall.”

 Shiro's ears turn an adorable shade of pink while he tilts his head in question. “Can I ask what a hipster is?”

 It's Lance's turn to laugh, now. “You have so much to learn, young padawan.”

 *

By the time they're all ready and piled in the car it's past noon and Keith is growing restless, squirming in the back seat. “Are they gonna have a toy store in there?”

 “Of course! Have you ever been to this mall before, baby?”

 Keith bounces up and down as they pull off high way and into the mall parking lot. “Nope! I only know about malls from the movies and stuff. Papa gets clothes from his phone for me.”

 “Does he now?” Lance glances at Shiro only to find him strangling the steering wheel with white knuckles. He looks mad- not at Lance or at Keith but at himself; his jaw is clenched and he keeps glancing in the rear view mirror to look at Keith. Finally, Lance leans over and puts his hand on Shiro's. “Well, looks like we've got a lot to catch up on, huh, big papa?”

 “ _Lance,”_ Shiro admonishes. He raises a finger at him. “I'm going to have to seriously consider putting you in therapy if you keep calling me papa and daddy.”

 Lance wiggles his eyebrows. “Promises, promises.” He opens his mouth wide and rolls his tongue out just to see Shiro blush and nearly crash the car before straightening _(haha, straight)_ it out into the parking space. Lance laughs and hops out, rushing over to get Keith and hold his hand. “I think your papa is gonna beat me up,” he stage whispers.

 Keith shakes his head, grinning and bouncing up and down. “Nah! He likes you too much. It's weird.” Shiro shuts off the car and climbs out, joining Keith on his other side. Keith, surprisingly, latches onto his fingers. “C'moooooon! Let's go get toys and- oh do they have pretzels here? I want a pretzel. And nachos, 'cause malls always have nachos, 'cause that's what Marissa said at recess and, also, do they have a Disney store? I want there to be a Disney store.”

 He keeps this up until they actually walk through the doors and the poor kid honest to God gasps like it's the most beautiful thing in the world. And it's actually a nice mall; four floors, all white and polished under bright lights and generic Top Hits music. The number of fancy stores is a little jarring though. What's more jarring is the fact that Shiro doesn't even spare a glance to the Gucci store, like he's seen it all before and it's nothing special even though Lance is willing to bet his left tit that a piece of Gucci lint is worth more than his entire savings.

 Keith sprints ahead of them, squealing and barreling into the first toy store he sees. Shiro and Lance follow along, laughing at the amount of times Keith gasps and yanks something off the shelves. “He really has a thing for swords and knives, huh?” Shiro's smiling, though.

 Lance laughs. “Yeah, he's a little samurai. He insists on helping cut the meat every dinner. Even has sound effects.” Shiro laughs, full and deep and it settles so nicely in Lance's stomach. He grins. “Seriously! He's a little Bruce Lee. A tornado.”

 Keith raises a plastic sword over his head and mock hits Lance straight in the knee. “You're dead! Ha!”

 “Oh, God! Sharp work, samurai, you got me!” Lance falls heavily against Shiro, clinging to him. “Tell Hunk I love him,” he whispers before closing his eyes and lolling out his tongue.

 Shiro's laugh rumbles through him hard enough to make his eyes open and his face flush. Shiro has a hand on the small of his back, keeping him steady and glued to his side. “How about we come back for this after your clothes? Necessities first, toys later, okay?”

 Keith pouts and looks at Lance, expecting him to take Keith's side but Lance only shrugs with a smile. Keith kicks the ground and mumbles but in the end does actually put his sword in the back of a shelf, “So no one can take it because it's mine, okay?”

 Keith actually looks like he's steeling himself up to go to war, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose before releasing through his mouth. He opens his eyes and nods. “Let's do this.” And marches straight out. What a fucking badass.

 Shiro still hasn't taken his hand off of Lance's back and Lance hasn't leaned away. They walk close, their legs nearly tripping each other but Lance honestly couldn't give a shit. “So,” Shiro starts, “we take him for his clothes, get the toys, and go home, right?”

 Lance laughs. “Oh, Shiro. When I said we were going to get you clothes I wasn't lying. His clothes, your clothes, toys, and then a late lunch. And- don't pout at me, mister, stop that!” Shiro doesn't relent though, pushing his bottom lip out until Lance can't help but throw his head back and laugh.

 “Evil,” Shiro whines,“pure evil.”

 Lance laughs his way to the children's clothing store. To his credit, Keith doesn't pout as much as his dad, which is great because Lance honest to God wouldn't be able to handle it. He does gripe about the lack of shirts with knives and ninjas, though. Shiro tries to explain that sending Keith to his private school in a shirt with knives on it would probably get them both in trouble and Keith sticks his chin up and says with the confidence of a man who's gone to jail and not afraid to go back, “I'm gonna do it anyway.”

 Shiro and Keith have a heated discussion about the importance of dressing nicely all the way to Lance's store of choice: fancy, but with young enough clothes that it makes Shiro wince. They walk into a pulsing beat racking their bones, the lights so dim Lance has to squint to see Keith attached to his knee.

 Lance squints even more. _Where the fuck is Shiro?_ Maybe he shouldn't have brought him to this store and he thought lowly of him or something like that and fled the scene and _what if he was fired-_

 “Why are there so many baseball hats? And what's a bae? Do they mean babe? Why would they put something on display with a misprint? Is this- is this a hacky sack? Oh my God it's a hacky sack.” Shiro turns to Lance with said hacky sack. “Lance, Lance it's 2017 and they're selling hacky sacks. I played with these in middle school, Lance. _Lance.”_

 And once he starts laughing he can't stop, doubled over until tears leak from his eyes. By the time he's done half the store is looking at him. Shiro's staring but finally, he tilts his head, a fond expression on his face. “You're weird,” he says. But he still leans over and wipes Lance's face with his thumbs, smiling.

 The only thing Lance can think is, _this man is going to be the death of me._

 Shiro clears his throat and straightens up. “So, clothes.”

 Lance clears his throat as well. “Yes. Clothes. Because that's why we're here. Clothes. Clothing store. For you. Yes. Clothes.” _Nice. Smooth. A+_

 Lance makes Shiro try on everything that's tight fitting and Shiro, bless his soul, only quirks an eyebrow before trying it on and coming out to model for Lance. Keith sits in Lance's lap and gives thumbs up or thumbs down on the things he likes while Lance whistles or boo's. They actually do leave with presentable clothes; jeans, because Shiro actually didn't remember the last year he bought jeans, and shirts. Lance also snuck in a beanie and only shrugged when Shiro caught him. “You'd look adorable with one,” was his only explanation. A little risky, but Shiro's blush and nervous laugh was worth it.

 And Shiro actually does end up getting Keith his sword as well as a ninja costume Keith _insists_ on getting, despite it only being September. Shiro only smiles, shrugs, and says “at least it's culturally appropriate.”

 They're all strapping themselves in the car when Lance asks,“Are you telling me Naruto was real?”

 “Well, maybe not Naruto, but ninjas were real in feudal Japan.”

 Lance's eyes are wide. “So there's a possibility Naruto was real.”

 “I don't think so, Lance.”

 Lance sticks his finger in Shiro's face. “I will uncover the truth, Takashi Shirogane, and when I do you'll be sorry for doubting me and Naruto.”

 Shiro raises his hands in mock surrender before laughing. Lance is busy plugging in their lunch destination into his GPS when a thought occurs to him, “How is it that you don't know slang terms and yet know of Naruto?”

 Shiro's wearing the world's most innocent face. “I have no idea what you're talking about Lance.”

 "Oh my God, did you have a phase? You had a phase. Oh my God.” Shiro shrugs, his ears pink and a barely suppressed smile on his face. “You were a neeeeerd.”

 “Hey! You were a nerd too, apparently.”

 “Yes, but I can admit it. Naruto and Cowboy Beebop all the way, baby.”

 Shiro looks a little scandalised. “No InuYasha? Really? Lance, I'm disappointed.”

 Lance is about to call Shiro a furry when Keith groans from the back, “You guys are so _weird!”_

 Shiro and Lance look at each other before bursting into laughter because that is completely and utterly true.

 They pull into the destination and Shiro wears a very critical face. “This is it?”

  _It_ in question is only the best burger place Lance has ever been to in his life. A little hole in the wall, family owned, and somehow always packed to the brim no matter the time of day. Lance clicks off his seatbelt. “What, scared of getting your pretty face dirty?”

 Surprisingly, Shiro's face doesn’t' get red. Instead, he quirks a brow and goes, “I'm worried that the grease will ruin your skincare routine” and pops out of the car. Lance promptly gives him the finger and Shiro belts another belly laugh. _That's nice,_ Lance thinks.

 They surprisingly don't have to wait very long for a table. Keith sits down, enraptured. “What's that?” he points at the next table's burger.

 Lance gasps. “No. Keith. Please. Please for the love of God don’t' tell me you've never had a burger.”

 Keith shrugs. “I like chicken nuggets and french fries.”

 Lance looks Shiro straight in the eye. “We have failed as parents.”

 Shiro laughs and shrugs. “Chicken nuggets and french fries are good.”

 He leans across the table and pokes Shiro in the chest. “I am going to rock- your- world, Shirogane.” He pokes Keith's nose just to watch it scrunch up. “You too, smaller Shirogane. Your minuscule world will be rocked, I swear it.”

 Keith looks up at his dad. “Lance is weird.” Shiro grins and mock whispers, “so weird.” Lance throws a napkin at both of them.

 The burgers come out and you wanna know something? Lance wasn't kidding. The burgers are heavenly; divine, even. If he had to choose between sex and these specific burgers Lance would choose the burgers. God knows they've given him more orgasms than any partner or one night stand.

 Lance points at the burgers with a flourish. “Look at this!” The buns are toasted and buttery warm, the patty thick and perfectly cooked with cheese and barbeque sauce dripping off it in pools. “Tell me it's not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.”

 Shiro glances up from where he's cutting Keith's mini burger in half. “I dunno, Lance. I think I've seen prettier things.” And the bastard actually _winks_ at him before looking back down at the burger. Lance feels his cheeks heat up as Shiro tacks on, “like my son.” Lance is scandalised and throws a french fry directly at Shiro's face and lets out a victorious _whoop!_

 Keith sinks his teeth into his burger and chews thoughtfully as grease dribbles down his chin. He looks up at Lance and then at Shiro and back at the burger again. “Papa,” he says around the burger, “I love this burger.”

 Lance raises his arms above his head. “And God said, 'let Lance feel victory!' and so it was!” Lance points at Shiro's face. “In your face, Shiro! Ha!”

 Shiro smiles. “They're pretty amazing, Lance.”

 “Damn straight they are!” Lance says right before he's hit right in between the eyes with a french fry and a finger in his face. “Language,” Shiro warns, but Lance can see the smile he's trying to hide and couldn't care less.

 

**

 Shiro has to carry a sleeping Keith in one arm and half the shopping bags in the other. He goes to tuck Keith into bed and gently takes off his pants so he can sleep while Lance stocks the closet with his new clothes.

 “I can't believe you carried the packages and Keith. Did you just like, wake up one day and decide to become the strongest man I know? Was that your destiny?” Lance whispers. He turns and oh, wow.

 Shiro's sitting on the bed, petting Keith's hair with so much fondness Lance's heart nearly breaks. Just the way Shiro's _looking_ at him- he doesn't even remember his own dad looking at any of his siblings like that. Shiro stares at Keith like he's the only thing that matters in his world. Like he could give up anything and everything if only to see Keith smile.

 So why does he look so sad?

 Lance can't help himself. “You're a good dad,” he says. Shiro's head snaps up, his hand stilling on Keith's head.

 “You don't have to say that, Lance. It's not true.” He says it like he's stating a fact, like Lance asked how hot it was outside. _Fuck that._

 “No.” Lance surprises both of them with how firm his voice is. “No, you're not a bad dad. You're trying your hardest and you're loving your kid the best way you know how. You'll get better at this, Shiro.”

 And Shiro. Shiro's eyes soften and he smiles. “That's because you're here, I think. You bring out the best in us.” He stands and steps over to Lance and for a moment, just a moment, Lance thinks he's looking at him the same way he looked at Keith. Like he's important. “In me.”

 Lance can barely breathe. “Little old me?” his voice is shaky and unsure but he still smiles at Shiro because he can barely do anything else in front of the man.

 “I don't think you're that old,” Shiro teases. There's a pause as they both regard each other, the only sound being Keith's breathing. Finally, “Do you want to open up a bottle of wine with me?”

 Lance grins. “Wine after burgers? Shiro, you spoil me.” He winks and Shiro chuckles. He smiles though, puts a hand on Shiro's shoulder. “I would love that.”

 Shiro puts a hand over Lance's. “I was hoping you would.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more you know: i was an inuyasha and chrono crusade type of anime nerd lmaaaooo


	4. Chapter 4

Not to toot his own horn, but Shiro's a pretty important guy. He's gone for one weekend, _one weekend,_ and his receptionist and assistant nearly weep when he steps into his office. He wants it to be funny but, apparently, he can't get what he wants ever; there are papers to do, reports to look over, propositions to be made and important people to get back to. He's on Skype with a potential investor in Japan for nearly two hours before he gets a deal, and it's only 2 PM. He's in the middle of contemplating the social repercussions of doing a keg stand with a tub of coffee when his receptionist calls his office phone.

“Your son is on line two, Mister Shirogane. He sounds very upset.”

And the world stops. Keith has never once called the office. He picks up line one. “Baby?”

A loud sniffle comes from the receiver. “Papa,” Keith whimpers. “Papa, Lance is dying.”

“What do you mean Lance is dying?”

“I woke up to go get breakfast and he wasn't there so I played videogames for a lil bit but then he still wasn't there so I went to his room and he's _dying,_ papa.” Keith takes a gulp of air before crying, “Should I call the 911 people? I don't want him to go to the hospital, papa.”

Shiro's frowning so hard his face hurts. “Alright, baby. I'll come home and see what's wrong with Lance, okay? Can you sit tight for me?”

When Keith mumbles an affirmative, Shiro promises he'll be there soon and hangs up the phone. It turns out that the owner of a lucrative business cannot, in fact, leave his own building without being assaulted by frantic assistants and interns. Luckily, Shiro walks very quickly and has an award winning apologetic smile and he manages to speed walk out in record time.

He also breaks a few speed limits and almost gets in three accidents but no one has to know about that. Especially not Keith, who's curled up in a ball on the couch clutching his plastic sword to his chest, eyes red and puffy and face smeared in tears.

Shiro kneels down to him and strokes his hair. “Are you alright, sweetie?”

Keith shakes his head vehemently. “No! I'm not alright! Lance is dying and I tried to make him feel better but he threw up and it was scary and he's _dying, papa!_ ” Keith starts to shake. “I don't want him to die! Go fix him!”

“He's not going to die, Keith, I promise. Let me go see how he's doing, okay? Stay here.” Keith sniffs and nods, clutching his sword tighter.

Lance's room is dark and smells of sick. He barely sees the small cocooned shape underneath a pile of blankets in the gloom. Shiro sits on the edge of the bed and Lance stirs, looking up at him blearily. His eyes are puffed and his forehead is covered in sweat. “Are you my buff guardian angel?” His voice is hoarse and weak, the exact opposite of his normal self.

Shiro laughs. At least he hasn't lost his sense of humor. “I'm your buff Shiro.” Lance shrugs and mumbles, 'same difference.' Shiro presses his wrist to Lance's forehead. He frowns. “You're burning up.”

“Call the poooolice and the firemeeeeen,” Lance sings. Somehow he's in tune, which is both impressive and concerning. When Shiro's frown stays in place Lance pouts. “I'm fine, buff daddy. Just a lil under the weather.” As if on cue he doubles over coughing, clutching his stomach. Shit. Shiro's hand is there on his back right away, rubbing soothing circles until the fit is over. Lance groans. “Did Keith eat today?”

“Keith ate all by himself. He can do that, remember?” Shiro's stomach does a weird little flip when Lance smiles brightly at him because despite his flushed face and sweaty forehead he's still somehow the most beautiful thing in the world. And that's _fucked up_. Not fair. If Shiro could sue Cupid he absolutely would have done so ten times over by now. Shiro leaves his hand on Lance's back. “My doctor is on the way from his office, okay? I made a call on the way here.”

Lance's eyes go wide. “I don't have enough apples to keep myself safe from him, Shiro.”

Shiro laughs at that. “He's a good guy. A little weird, but good. He's been taking care of Keith and me for ages. Even took care of-” he stops himself. Swallows. “He'll take care of you.”

“I didn’t even know doctors still made house calls.” Lance buries himself back in his blanket cocoon. “You're not helping your case, Shiro. I am definitely still suspicious of you being a vampire. Only vampires have doctors who make house calls.”

“Why would a vampire need a doctor in the first place?”

“Aesthetic. Duh. It looks cool and- listen, Shiro, my theory isn't complete yet. But it'll get there.” A knock on the door signalled the arrival of Shiro's doctor, causing Lance to wince and curl up underneath the covers. Was he whining? Not like a kid whine, but a dog whine, kinda like a po-

“Ah, is this our sick nanny?” Coran. Good old Coran to save Shiro from very inappropriate thoughts at a very inappropriate time.

Shiro sighs in relief. “This is him. Thank you for coming on such short notice, Coran.”

The man waves Shiro off. “Of course, of course! Nothing less for the best of the best.”

Lance whimpers. “Stop with the loud, please. Only whispers.” Shiro frowns and goes back to rubbing Lance's back. He could have sworn Lance sighed in pleasure, but that might have been his evidently whacked up brain talking.

And then Coran is there, easing the covers off of him and urging him to sit up. Shiro is there with his hands again, helping Lance move from being a mummy to sitting like a human being. Lance pouts. “You didn't have to make such a fuss,” he mutters.

Coran plops a thermometer in his mouth and holds it while he stuffs a stethoscope up Lance's shirt. Lance winces at the cold. A few moments pass before the thermometer beeps, signaling it was done. Coran plucks it out and frowns “It seems our boy here has a virus. Little kids are full of them.” Coran waves around the air like a thousand viruses are lingering. There probably are. Ew. “I assumed this. I've some medicine in my pouch if you wait just a tick. It'll help bring the fever down, and should help with his throwing up, too.”

After pulling out an obscene amount of pill bottles, Coran pulls Shiro out of the room. “He'll be fine, old friend. Just make sure he's hydrated and gets plenty of rest. And of course, he must eat. You know how to make soup, yes?”

Shiro smiles at him. “Of course, Coran. Thank you for coming.”

The moment Coran closes the door Shiro's smile drops.

He has no fucking clue how to make soup.

Keith pads over; it seems he traded in his sword for a bright red lion plushie that, again, Shiro doesn't remember buying. He tilts his head and squints at it. Is that handmade? “Is Lance gonna be okay, papa?” His voice is small and makes Shiro's heart hurt.

He kneels down to Keith's height and Keith takes a step back. Ouch. “Lance just got a virus. Probably from the mall, remember?”

Apparently, this is the worst thing in the world for Keith because his bottom lip starts to tremble. “So it's my fault? 'Cause I wanted to go to the mall for clothes and also nachos and also the toys to have fun but it got Lance _sick_ and _sad!”_

Shit. Shiro reaches out to touch Keith but he jerks back. Double shit. “It's not your fault, baby. People just get sick. It's no one's fault.”

Keith scrubs his face. “We gotta make him soup. Soup is gonna make him feel better, right?” He doesn't give Shiro time to answer, stomping off to the kitchen like a man with a mission.

Right. Soup. Soup is just a hot liquid with stuff in it that you eat, right? How hard can that be? He pulls up his phone and looks up recipes. _Thank you, internet._ He settles on tomato soup because everyone loves tomato soup, right? _I have never had tomato soup in my life._

By the time he has it pulled up on his phone, Keith is already inside the fridge, yanking out food and throwing it onto the floor. Shiro flounders. “Bud! We don't throw food on the floor!” He goes over and picks Keith up underneath his arms, sets him on the counter away from their dismantled fridge.

Keith doesn't look one bit sorry. “You were taking too long. You're too slow. We need soup or else.”

Shiro frowns. “Or else what?”

Keith throws his arms up. “Or else stuff, papa! Stuff will happen! So let's just- let's just cook! Lance does it all the time, he says it's fun, so just- do it, papa!”

 _Fun_ he says. It'll be _fun._ Shiro cuts his finger open while slicing up onions. Keith screams. He burns the flour in the pot and Keith yodels in fury. “We can do this, bud.” Keith doesn't look convinced. The last time his face was this red was when he was a baby and had explosive diarrhoea. His mom sent a picture thinking it was funny. It wasn't funny. It will never be funny.

Shiro starts on the tomatoes. Keith is standing on the counter now, peering down like God watching his creations die. “Hope your socks are clean, buddy. We eat on this.

”Keith glares at him. “Not we. You don't eat here. You eat in your stupid office because you're stupid. Me and Lance eat here.”

Shiro's jaw flexes. “I get you're upset, Keith, but that doesn't mean you can say things like that.”

“It's the truth!” Keith stomps his foot, narrowly missing the cutting board. And the knife. “I _hate you!”_

Shiro picks Keith up and carries him into the living room. By this point, Keith is screaming and crying, kicking his legs at Shiro's prosthetic.

The one thing that Keith's mom actually taught him was what to do during Keith's meltdowns. Stay calm, don't say anything because it'll make it worse, and let him ride it out. Only it's the most difficult thing in the world, seeing Keith scream and cry when Shiro can't _do anything about it._ He feels useless here with his thumbs up his ass while Keith has a world class meltdown.

Eventually, Keith's tired himself out, face blotchy and breaths evening out. He won't look at Shiro, either, glares resolutely at the floor like the meltdown was its fault. Shiro sits on the couch in front of him. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

Keith crosses his arms and tucks his chin against his chest. He shakes his head.

“Can I guess?” Keith doesn't answer so Shiro goes on. “I think you're upset because Lance is sick and you want to make him feel better. But the soup isn't coming out right, so you're very upset. Is that kinda what happened?”

Keith glances up at Shiro's face and mumbles, “I guess.” He kicks the floor. “I don't want him to leave. If he's sick and we don't take care of him he'll go away forever.”

Shiro frowns. “He won't go away forever, Keith. We'll take care of him. If the soup doesn't work out,” _which it probably won't, “_ we can go order some from a restaurant and it'll be just as good. Probably better, since papa doesn't know how to cook.” Keith chuckles a little bit. “Can I touch you, bud?”

Shiro 100% expects another meltdown but Keith just shrugs and clambers onto Shiro's lap. Woah. “I don't want him to leave forever. I love him.”

 _Me too, bud._ He doesn't mention that one day, Lance will leave. To another job, maybe to a partner's house or to travel. One day they'll be without Lance. _No,_ he thinks, _take care of Keith, be sad later._ He smooths Keith's hair down, smiling when it puffs back up. “I know you do. But we'll take care of him. Can I ask why you think he'll leave?” Keith squirms. “Is it because of your mom?”

Keith takes a breath. “Mama said she left 'cause you weren't nice to her. I don't want Lance to leave because we're not nice to him.”

He wants to explain how difficult things were when he got back. How his mom couldn't handle the amputation, how Shiro couldn't handle going from a war zone to being a dad and husband. How his mom would threaten divorce each time Shiro had a night terror until one day the threats came true. Instead, he pulls Keith closer to his chest, surprised at the lack of resistance. “Your mom and I...separated because of something between me and her. It had nothing to do with you, Keith.”

Keith sniffs. “But it was her birthday a few days ago. I called and she didn't pick up. She never picks up when I call.” He looks up with glass eyes. “If it's not my fault then why doesn't she pick up? Was I bad?”

“No! No, bud. It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong. You weren't bad.” Keith buries his face in Shiro's chest. Shiro holds him tighter. “Things were hard after papa came home from war-”

“Yeah, you got a robot arm.”

Shiro smiles. “I did get a robot arm.” He pokes Keith's nose with said robot arm just to see him laugh. “But your mom just...couldn't handle it. It wasn't either of our faults, Keith. People just leave sometimes. It was grown up stuff, baby, and it will never, ever be your fault.”

It's quiet until Keith mumbles, “Mama said you didn't take care of us.”

Shiro sighs. “She's right. I didn't take care of you guys. It was wrong of me and I'm so, so sorry, baby. But I'm trying very hard to do that now, and Lance is helping out.” Keith pokes his head out at the mention of their favorite nanny. “Does it really upset you that I don't eat with you guys?”

Keith frowns. “You're never here. Lance is always here. He eats all the time with me. I like it.”

“Well, papa can't be here to eat with you all the time because he has work.” Keith's frown grows. “But! How about I have breakfast with you? And when I can I'll come during dinner, too. Or we'll meet at a restaurant by my building and we'll eat there. Does that sound okay?”

Keith pulls away to look Shiro in the eye. “Promise you'll try?” He presents his pinky finger.

Shiro latches onto it with no hesitation. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Now, speaking of restaurants...”

 

* * *

 

Shiro knocks on the door before pushing it open. Lance is still a cocoon but the bedside lamp is on and he doesn't cry at the noise, so that's an improvement.Keith rushes in between Shiro's legs. “Lance! Lance, are you okay?”

Lance smiles and wiggles his arms out of the blankets. “I'm doing okay, baby. Thank you for asking.” Keith beams up at him like he put the stars in the sky. And for them, maybe he did.

Shiro sits on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Lance shrugs. “Better. I slept a lot but I think my fever went down some. Coran's awesome.” Shiro presses the back of his hand against Lance's forehead; it's warm and clammy, but he's less liable to burst into flames now.

Keith is climbing his way onto the bed. “Lance! Lance, look, look we got you something.” He pulls out a plastic tub of soup with the world's biggest smile. “Papa burned everything so we had to go to people who know how to cook and not burn stuff. But I think it's good. It's chicken noodle soup, but the noodles don't look like chicken, but they said it's good for sick people.”

Lance gasps. “For me?” Keith nods, yanking out a spoon from his back pocket. “You guys are so cute!” Lance leans over _and_ kisses Keith's nose with a loud _mwah!_ Keith tries his best to hide his smile behind his hands. “You think you can be my biggest hero and go get me another glass of water, buddy?”

Keith puffs out his chest. “That's _easy_ super hero work!” He runs out of the room with his arms held high.

Lance scoots over and pats the space next to him. “Soooo, I heard yelling. I'm guessing the angry dolphin noises weren't you?”

Shiro laughs and lays down next to him. “Keith had a melt down. We were trying to make you soup and, as you heard, I burnt it.”

“How do you burn soup?”

“I don't think I've cooked anything other than cup noodles, Lance. It's a miracle I figured out how to cut the onions in the first place.” Lance laughs and it warms Shiro's stomach. _Fuuuuck._ He clears his throat. “He was upset over his mom. She hasn't been picking up his phone calls lately. I'm going to have to call her up, have a chat. That's not fair to him, you know?” He scratches the back of his neck. “She might hate my guts but...Keith didn't _do_ anything. He wants his mom.”

Lance rests his head on Shiro's shoulder and he wills his face to stop morphing into a firetruck. “I think that's a good idea. But I also think you did a pretty good job calming him down.” Lance turns his face and smiles, and Shiro realizes just how close they are. He can feel his breath on his neck, see the freckles splattered across his flushed face. _Flushed from sick or something else?_   “Proud of yooooou.”

Shiro can't help the fond smile crawling on his face. “Thank you. Now eat your soup, you look like a zombie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again y'all!! come talk to me!!! i'm on tumblr at bluelioncub.tumblr.com tell me about shance and stuff and tell me what you want to see!!!! cause honestly at this point i'm writing out ideas from you guys so keep feeding me 'em!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eye witness: bruno mars

It's not that Lance hated school. He liked going for the shitty cafeteria food, for seeing his friends and pretty people he had no chance with; he really, really liked the after parties for theatre (so much hormones, so much shitty beer!) and high school talent shows.

It's that school fucking _sucked._ Who needed to learn what the powerhouse of the cell was? Who liked getting up at 6 in the morning to sit on a bus with no AC? Serial killers, that’s who.

And you wanna know whats worse than public school kids? _Private_ school kids. With their uniforms and caviar and computers that actually _work_.

It didn't matter where the kids were from or how much money they had. Once they figured out some fundamental truths about Lance, it all went to shit.

But he's not here to remember all that. He's here for Keith. He takes a deep breath and pops out of his car; the receptionist looks highly sceptical and it's probably because he's not wearing gold or carrying around an obsidian walking stick. He flashes his best smile. “Hi. I'm here for Keith Shirogane? There's a parent teacher conference-”

“You're not his father.”

 _No shit._ “His father did call ahead of time. He's not able to make it, so I'm here in his stead. The guidance counsellor said it was alright.” He glances down at his watch. “Aaaand since the meeting starts soon I would very much appreciate it-”

“Down the hall and to the left. You can’t miss it.” And with that she swivels her chair back to her fancy iMac, neat french braid and pearl necklace swaying with the movement.

It turns out that, yes, you can miss it, _asshole,_ because everything looks the same in fancy private schools. High ceilings that let in the light, black tiles that sparkle despite the fact that children have a tendency to be gross at all times. How's anyone supposed to find anything without graffiti landmarks? _Honestly._

It's beautiful in an unattainable way, like a celebrity or a really hot single dad employer. There's no drawings from children, only awards from pretentious school boards and newspaper clippings carefully laminated and pressed against the walls. The air has the type of quiet that comes only from a sleeping child despite the fact this beautiful piece of architecture is meant as a school for children, not a fever dream for parents.

He stops at wide double doors with a gold plaque proudly displaying the Promised Land of Guidance above the frame. Fucking finally. Lance straightens up, adjusts the collar of his flannel and pushes inside. His feet sink into plush carpeting and he nearly coughs at the amount of air fresheners used to imitate homeliness. A woman with dark skin and white hair turns and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Are you Mister Shirogane's nanny?”

Lance smiles. “Yup! That's me. You must be Keith's lovely guidance counsellor. Miss Altea?”

Miss Altea laughs, waving her hand. “Ah, just Allura is fine.” Lance flashes another smile and shakes her hand, surprised at just how strong she is. She could easily beat the shit out of him. With one finger. Which is kinda hot. “Let's get back to my office. Keith's waiting for us there.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “The kids come to their own performance meetings?”

Allura shrugs and leads him through the labyrinth that is the guidance office. “When they're good. We like for the kids to hear how good of a job they're doing straight from us.” She looks proud, and with good reason; all his parents got were e-mails complaining about him. “I must say, Lance, Keith has a lot to say about you.”

“Oh? Is it mostly good?”

“It's all good, actually. You've really made an impression on him.”

When they open the door Keith springs out of his seat, rushing over to Lance. “You came!”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world, buddy!” He picks Keith up and sits down, putting Keith in his lap.“Wow. Comfy seats.”

"Yes, well, with our funding we most certainly can afford it.” Yes. Of course. Obviously. She turns her blinding smile to Keith; he shies away, clinging to Lance's shirt. “Hi there, Keith.”

“Hi.” Is the only response she gets. Apparently, it's good enough judging by the way her smile stays put.

She picks up a manilla folder with Keith's name on it. “You've been doing very well.” Keith peeks from Lance's shirt. “You've been getting in fewer fights lately.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles. “'Cause I get to go home and do good stuff there instead of doing bad stuff here.”

“What kind of good stuff do you do?”

 _Please don't say breaking plates please don't say breaking plates._ “I like to play the guitar with Lance. It's nice. I like it. It's fun.” Lance sighs in relief and Keith throws him a lopsided smile that strangely resembles Shiro's shit eating one. “Lance helps lots.”

Allura hums, looking over recently printed papers. “And your grades have improved drastically. Have you been studying?”

Keith nods. “With Lance and sometimes papa, too, when he's home. Lance isn't good at math and science so papa helps me out, but papa stinks at music class. It's funny, though.” Lance smiles at him and presses a kiss to his hair.

There's a pause, long enough to be noticeable but not long enough for Lance to panic. She shakes her head and smiles again. “I'm very happy to hear that, Keith. Mrs Adamson-” Keith wrinkles his nose “-says you've been raising your hand in class more, too. You should try to do that more often, okay?”

Keith nods and squints at her. “Is that it? No bad stuff?”

Allura shrugs and drops the papers on her desk. “No bad stuff.”

Keith continues to squint. “You know,” he says slowly, “it's 3'oclock. That means it's time to go home. Can we go home now?”

Allura laughs. “That excited to leave?”

“It's time to go get lunch with papa. He said he'll get us burgers and also ice cream so we gotta go right now, okay?” Keith hops out of Lance's lap and grabs his fingers, yanking his arm. “Gotta goooo! Papa's waiting!”

Lance's laughing and looks at Allura in askance. “Actually,” she says, “I wanted to talk to your nanny-”

Keith screws his face up. “My _Lance_.”

Allura winces. “Ah. Yes. I wanted to talk to your Lance just for one second, Keith. Can you go wait outside the door?” Keith looks at Lance who gives a shrug and smile. “It'll only be for a few moments.”

Keith huffs and turns away. “Okay. Only for a few minutes and then we gotta go, Miss Altea.” With barely contained impatience he turns the door handle and, thinking better of slamming it, eases the door shut.

Lance smiles. “I know Shiro couldn't be here but I think-”

“It's strange Mr Shirogane couldn’t arrive. It's even stranger he sent his nanny in his stead.” Allura's staring at him like he's a student, not an adult, though she must be around Shiro's age. And suddenly he's back in the guidance office with braces and acne. “You've been a great help for Keith- he talks about you all the time, almost like you're a father rather than a nanny. I just can't help but think he and his father may be relying on you too much. How much longer do you have on your contract?”

Right. Contract. “Shiro and I actually have been talking about extending it.”

Allura purses her lips. “I certainly hope Keith's father gets his act together, then. Nannies are all well and good for support, but not for a surrogate parent.”

“Shiro's trying the best he can-”

“And still you're here instead of him. Don't you find that strange?”

And he guesses it _is_ strange- he was happy at first, full of pride that Shiro would trust him with Keith's education while he was in a meeting. It wouldn't be the first time Lance showed up to one of Keith's functions but isn't that just-

“-not what nannies _do,_ you understand.” Lance blinks himself out of his own head. Allura gives him a _look,_ the, _I know you weren't paying attention and I'm going to judge you for it_ look teachers have down to a science. Did they teach that at college or something?

Lance grits his teeth. “No offence, but I think my employer will decide what _his_ nanny does and doesn't do.” He stands up and plasters a smile so fake he can taste the silicone. “Have a good one, Miss Altea.”

Before she can even murmur parting words Lance is already out the door with a babbling Keith clinging to his fingers. And as much as he's dying for burgers the thought of it makes his stomach twist in painful, sharp contortions.

What was going to happen at the end of his contract? They had settled on six months to see how it went on, but Shiro was already making an extension with his lawyers and Lance was too happy- too desperate, maybe, _shit_ \- to even ask himself if it was the right thing to do.

Shiro was happy now. Keith was happy. They met for dinner when they could and breakfasts more often than not; Keith even let Shiro read him bedtime stories and Lance finally convinced Shiro to take Sundays off. If he left…

Keith yanks down on his fingers. “Lance?” He looks down to see Keith staring up at him, eyebrows drawn and bottom lip pushed out. “Was Miss Altea mean to you?”

“Whaaat? No one's mean to me-”

“Nu uh. People are sometimes mean to you. People are sometimes mean to everyone.”

Why'd he have to go on and teach Keith something as dumb as emotional intelligence? That was a bad move. He forces a smile on. “You're right. Sorry, baby. I was just thinking about how we're going to get to the burger place from here.”

That pacifies Keith and suddenly he's wondering about if they should have milkshakes or Italian ices instead of ice cream while Lance is wondering when Keith stopped being a client and started being family. Was it during thunderstorms weathered in the basement with movies and blankets? Did it happen during one of Keith's guitar lessons? Maybe it was the plate smashing- plate smashing always did things to people's feelings, right?

Lance buckles Keith into his car seat and though he hears what Keith's excited about he's not quite understanding; if he leaves, will the next nanny come to the school meetings? Will the next one let Keith crawl in his bed when he has a nightmare? Will the next nanny fall in love with Shiro, too?

He clambers in the driver's side and plugs his phone in and goes straight for Keith's playlist on Spotify. It only occurs to him after months of having it that it is kinda weird to have a Spotify playlist for Keith. _That's just not what nannies do._

Keith's singing and bouncing along to Bruno Mars and, for once, Lance isn't singing along with him. He drives like he's on autopilot, turning the wheel, stepping on the breaks, and glancing in the rearview mirror at Keith like a doting parent-

Oh.

Keith catches his eyes and smiles at him, bright and warm like the sun. _Oh._

Maybe if he'd looked away he would've noticed the car on his left blow a red light before it slammed into his side.

**

Lance and Keith are twenty minutes late and something in Shiro's gut tells him something is wrong.

He can negotiate meetings, do budget adjustments, talk to big time business leaders, but the whole dad sixth sense thing? Totally inactive. Not there. He normally relies on Lance to do that; it's like a Spidey sense for him.

And for all Lance's joking around, he's never late. He looks at his phone and dials Lance again, only to be met immediately by his voice mail. _Is it dead?_ That's not like Lance at all; he has an extra battery pack in his car at all times.

He's in the middle of dialling again when an unknown number pops up. He frowns. “Hello?”

“Is this Takashi Shirogane?”

“Yes, this is he. May I ask who's calling?”

“I'm calling from St. Vincent Hospital. We have your son Keith over here in the emergency room.”

His heart drops. “Is he- is he okay?”

“I believe so. You'll have to speak with the doctors on that, but the car crash wasn't as bad as it could have been. Do you need our address?”

Shiro scrambles for a pen and paper. “Ah- yes- just- yes, please.” He can barely write it down his hand is shaking so hard; it looks like chicken scratch and he can barely read it by the time he hangs up the phone.

 _Car accident._ He tries to push the image of Lance and Keith in a crushed car out of his mind; it wasn't as bad as it could have been, the nurse said. But she didn't say anything about Lance. Nothing about him. Was he alright? Was he hurting, was he scared, was he alone?

By the time he gets to the hospital his steering wheel has a mold of Shiro's right hand, crushed underneath his frustrations and fear.

The hospital smells of forced rejuvenation in a feeble attempt to mask the sick and death permeating from everything- the white walls, the sterile tile, the chipped clipboards. Even the building seems to hold its breath, anticipating the bad news, the death sentence, the shattering of hearts.

He fucking hates hospitals.

He scrambles to the nurse's desk. “I'm here to see my son, Keith Shirogane.” With too much effort he pulls out his driver's license. “I was called about an hour ago. It took me a while to get here.”

The nurse looks over his license and back at her computer. “Looks like he's been discharged, actually.”

Shiro can feel his face screw up. “By who?”

She tilts her head to the side and cocks an eyebrow. “His mother, it seems.”

Thank God he's in a hospital because he can feel his heart stop, feel the bile burning the insides of his throat. He hasn't seen her in- what, a year? More than that? What was she doing here? “Did the hospital call her?”

The nurse purses her lips. “It doesn't say, sir. Keith and his mom are probably still in the room getting checked out. He's on the third floor, room 302.” She leans over and slaps a visitor's pass on his shirt.

Shiro gulps and nods. Dimly he's aware of thanking the nurse and turning on his heel, following the signs until he gets to the elevator.

His hands are shaking, the nape of his neck damp. He's been in war- he's seen friends, good friends, slaughtered in front of him. He saw his arm ripped from his elbow, heard the screams before he realized it was his and only his.

And he's scared of his ex-wife. Terrified.

He snorts. _Fucking pathetic._ How did she even get the news? She wasn't on Keith's emergency contact list; only him and Lance were. So who the fuck called her? And _why?_

His feet lead him to room 302. The doors closed and he can't hear anything, but he can tell the lights on and see movement from the small door window. He gulps. Breathes in, holds, breathes out. He can do this.

He opens the door and it's like seeing a ghost. Heart shaped face, soft chin, big eyes and blond hair. She's cut it, he realizes; when they met her hair dangled past her hips, curling at the ends. He used to braid it in college just to hear her laugh at how awful it looked. It's all gone now, cut to her chin.

“Alaina,” he calls. She snaps her head.

“You.” She keeps her distance, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where the hell were you?”

Shiro swallows. “An hour away. I was meeting Keith for lunch when I got the call. I came as fast as I could, Alaina.”

Alaina outright sneers at him. “Who did you put in charge of my son?”

Shiro bristles. “ _Our_ son,” he corrects. “He's our son, Alaina.” Speaking of his son- he looks past Alaina and sees Keith curled in a ball on the hospital bed. He breathes out and walks over, ignoring Alaina's flinch. “Hey, baby.”

Keith's covered in band-aids; his hair is wild and his clothes have some tears, but all in all, he's okay. All expect for his tear stained face. He hiccups. “I'm sorry, papa.”

Shiro's about to ask what he's sorry about when Alaina speaks up again. “He called me and told me he was in an accident. I had to leave my class early for this. He's _fine._ Just cuts and bruises.”

Shiro grits his teeth. “Then why's he crying, Alaina?”

“Because he's sensitive-”

“'Cause I feel _bad,_ daddy.” Keith's shaking, tears dribbling down his chin and over the bandaids on his face. Shiro picks him up, holds him to his chest and rocks him until he calms down. “Mama had to le-leave her job and that was me-mean of me to do 'cause I'm not super hurt. I just- I just wanted to see her.”

Shiro shakes his head. “You don't have to feel bad about that, baby-”

“Yes he does, Takashi.” It's the first time she's called him that since the divorce. “He's not hurt. I didn't have to leave my job to rush over here. He's _fine.”_

“He's not fine! He's scared and wanted his mom. The mom who's ignored his phone calls for a _month._ The mom who wouldn't even answer a text. The mom who could only be bothered to be here when her son's in a crash. He wanted _you_ because he misses you, Alaina. And that's not fine. That's not fine at all.”

Alaina drops her arms and steps closer. “You want to know what's not fine? Having to see my son and remember all the times I had to tell him you weren't coming home for his birthday or for Christmas or for _anything_ for _five fucking years._ ” She laughs, humourless and dry. “I'm sorry I don't answer calls. I'm sorry I ignore texts, Takashi. But I'm trying to move on.”

Shiro holds Keith closer to his chest. “Move on from your son?” he growls. “No. That's unacceptable.”

“You don't get to tell me what's acceptable-”

“He _loves you_ , Alaina. He misses you-”

“And I love him too-”

Shiro snorts. “Really? I don't see it, Alaina. I really, truly don't.”

Alaina's shaking with anger and Shiro can feel the blood in his face burning. It's always been like this; yelling over each other, baring teeth, throwing insults. How could it be it was only years ago he was braiding her hair in their new house? The wedding in her hometown church, the letters sent with ultrasound pictures.

The long hair has been cut. The wedding photos burned and the pictures tucked away.

Keith sniffs and trembles against him. Shiro holds him closer, closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Keith's hair. _One two three one two three, in, hold, out._ He opens his eyes. “Listen.” Alaina's gaze snaps back to him. “I don't want to fight with you.” He ignores her snort and pushes on. “I want Keith to be happy. You can move on from me, that's fine, I want you to be happy with whatever you choose in life. But you need to be there for Keith.”

Alaina looks down at the floor, cheeks red in a way that screams Keith after a tantrum. “Takashi,” she says softly, “I don't know how that'll work out.”

“We'll figure out something. Do you have off tomorrow?” She nods. “Good. Keith's staying home from school tomorrow. Take him out. Bring him to breakfast. Do something with him, and afterwards, we can discuss arrangements for you to take him out more often. But I need your cooperation, okay?”

Alaina stiffens. “Don't talk down to me like that, Takashi.” Shiro winces. “I'll pick him up tomorrow morning and we'll discuss it all after.” Shiro nods. Alaina leans into Keith. “Baby, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” Keith doesn't nod, doesn't even look up from Shiro's neck, just clings tighter until his baby knuckles bleed white. “I love you.”

The silence from Keith is deafening.

She straightens, nods, and walks out of the room. Shiro sighs. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Keith nuzzles closer to Shiro. “I want Lance,” he mumbles.

Shiro smiles. “Yeah, me too. Let's go find him, okay?”

 

**

The first thing Lance notices when he wakes up is that his neck is on fire. Smaug's fire is on his neck and he's a helpless peasant. _What the fuck._

The second thing is the doctor, watching him like a specimen. He squints. “Welcome back,” the doctor says. Lance grunts.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Angry guidance counsellor. Bruno Mars. His ankle throbs, angry and hot. _Tires screeching, smoke from the pavement; an explosion of glass, Lance's foot slamming on the brakes as if that would help._ He reaches up to the side of his face and feels the bandages. He was cut, the window sliced open against his temple. “Some shit head ran a red light.”

The doctor looks surprised at his language and Lance can't find it in him to give a crap. “That's right.” He looks down at Lance's clipboard, ready to read out his injuries when the door bursts open.

Before he knows it Keith's transformed into an Olympic gymnast and catapulted himself into the hospital bed. “Baby! Oh, there's my man!” The car crash must've done something to his brain because it takes a second to realize Kieth's crying his eyes out, clinging to his shirt like it's the only buoy out in sea. “Oh, baby.” He cradles Keith to his chest and whispers assurances that it's okay, it's all over, they're alright.

And then Shiro's there, stroking Lance's hair. He looks frazzled, his hair mussed up and his cheeks red like he's been running. And he probably was, the little nerd. Lance smiles up at him and Shiro returns it, shaky and unsure. “Come here often?” Lance asks.

That startles a laugh out of Shiro. “No, I don't. And hopefully, none of us will.”

Lance is about to point out the amazing date options available at this fine establishment when the doctor clears his throat. “Lucia-”

Oh.

Oooooh fuck.

Keith wrinkles his nose and pops out of Lance's collar. “Who's Lucia?”

Lance forces himself to breathe. “That's um- that's my old name. Lucia. I haven't gotten around to changing it.” How did he forget to change his name? It's his fucking name, it's literally the most important thing about him, legally, and he forgot to change it. Holy shit.

Suddenly the room feels too small; his chest is heavy and it's hard to breathe, something stings behind his eyes and vaguely he can hear the doctor talking about whiplash and his sprained ankle but all he can remember are the eyes judging him, calling him by _that name_ and-

Shiro's hand is back in his hair, petting it. Lance looks up and blinks away tears to find him smiling. “I'll help you change it whenever you're able, okay Lance?”

“You're not mad?”

Shiro shakes his head. “There's nothing to be angry about, Lance. It's just an old name.”

Keith speaks up, “I like Lance better. 'Cause it's like the knights we learned about in school and it's really cool. It's like a big pencil knights used to poke each other with. So I like it better.”

Lance breathes out and laughs a little hysterically, causing the doctor to look at him strangely but who the fuck gives a shit. “I do, too.”

The doctor explains Lance's ankle injury and how it should heal up in a few weeks at most; his whiplash is minor and the cut on the side of his face was shallow enough to spare him stitches. Some Advil here and there would do him good, and if the pain gets bad to come back and see him.

He explains all this while Shiro picks him up bridal style and holds him in one arm, Keith in the other. So it's a little hard ot pay attention when Captain America is proving he can dead lift you and a small child without breaking a sweat. (Though he does look at Shiro from time to time and he looks a little bit too smug and Lance kinda wants to kiss that smug look off his fa- _no, bad Lance_.)

By the time they get to the house it's past six and the car stinks of the McDonalds that Lance begged Shiro for. It turns out that neither Keith or Shiro had McDonald's ever in their lives, so really, Lance was doing them a service. An act of kindness.

They pull up in the driveway and Keith insists on walking on his own. Shiro rounds over to Lance's side and smiles at him. “I think you're the only nanny in the world that gets carried around like this, you know.” He's joking, Lance knows, but he can't help but remember: _that's just not what nannies do._

When did Shiro stop being a client? When did Lance stop being a nanny? He's being carried to his room by his employer, his boss, who looks down at him with such tenderness Lance feels his heart is about to burst.

He gets to the bed and lays Lance down in the middle, smiling down at him. “So if you need anything just call my cell, alright? I'll be in the house, I promise.”

Just as Shiro's about to leave Lance grabs his wrist. “Wait.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow and comes back over, sitting on the edge of the bed. Lance frowns and pulls him forward, closer, and Shiro comes with no resistance. “I just-” he licks his lips. “What am I to you?”

There's a charged silence. Lance can hear his heart beat in his throat, feels the anxious drumming in his ears, reverberating in his veins. Shiro comes closer, leans down to Lance's face. “You're special to me.”

Lance laughs and pretends he's not about to cry. “How? Am I just- a nanny? I mean, obviously, I'm just the nanny, that's why you hired me, I'm just the help-”

“Lance-”

“-and it's silly of me to think I'm anything else. It's just that- I do so many things that a nanny shouldn't be doing and I just- do you really- am I still- why is this so fucking _hard?”_

“ _Lance.”_ Shiro's voice startles him out of his rant. He's closer now, his flesh hand cupping the side of his face. “You're special to me. More than a nanny. You'll never, ever be just a nanny to me, okay? Never.”

Lance is scared to breathe. “Then what will I be to you?”

Shiro licks his lips. “You're-” He laughs, breathy and nervous. “This is hard, isn't it.” His eyes search Lance's face again, and finally, finally, he leans down and presses his lips to Lance's.

It's soft, the way he does it. Like he's afraid he'll break Lance if he presses too hard, asks for too much, so Lance does it for him; pulls Shiro down deeper, rakes his teeth on his bottom lip just to hear a groan escape Shiro's throat. “I didn't think...” Shiro leans back only slightly to look Lance in the eye.

“That I was such a good kisser?”

“That I could have this. Have you.”

 _Oh._ If his body wasn't screaming at him from the inside out he'd kick Shiro's ass but instead, he settles on tangling his fingers in Shiro's hair. _Same effect_. “Why not? You're amazing.”

Shiro frowns. “Lance-”

“If you don't shut up and let me talk I'm never gonna kiss you again. You'll get a call from my lawyer that I'll buy with _your_ credit card tomorrow morning.”

“Why not your credit card?”

“'Cause I have shit credit, Shiro. The only credit cards I have are yours and- hey!” Shiro's smiling now and it's only then that Lance realizes that Shiro was crying- there's still a tear on his cheek catching the lamp light. “Hey,” he repeats, softer. He reaches up and wipes it away.

Shiro clears his throat, smile tilting to the side in a completely unfair, stupid way. “Sorry. You're just uh- a really good kisser.”

“Don't apologize. Anyone would cry if they kissed me.” Lance's thumb stays on the rise of Shiro's cheekbone, tracing light circles in the skin. “I've thought about kissing you since we met, you know. And then I got to know you-”

“Ouch.”

“ _Shut up, oh my God._ And then I got to know you and I wanted to do more than kiss you and not like- not like that shut up stop that- well kind of- where was I going with this?” Shiro's shit eating grin is still on and Lance screws his eyes shut just to get away from it. Fuck that guy, seriously. _Hopefully._ “I wanted to- just. I wanted to hold your hand. I wanted to go to stupid dates with you and embarrass you in front of your fancy coworkers because you're _amazing._ You're amazing in the way you care and the way you work hard and just- in everything you do. Especially in the way you try. You're amazing.” When Shiro doesn't say anything Lance peels his eyes open. “And flustering. Did I mention that part?”

Shiro still doesn't say anything, the asshole, just keeps staring at Lance like he just gave the most confusing dissertation he's ever heard in a newly discovered language. “My dude. My man. My heart is uh, on the table, right now, at this moment.” Lance was going for careful nonchalance but he sounds really fuckin panicky to his ears.

Shiro shakes himself out of it. “ _I'm_ amazing? Me.” Lance nods and Shiro fucking _snorts_. “Have you _met_ me?” When Lance opens his mouth Shiro shakes his head. “If you talk I'm going to contact my lawyers and revoke your kissing privileges. And I have _excellent_ lawyers, Lance.” Lance clamps his mouth shut because fuck no- he _just_ got these privileges and he'll probably find a way to enter the court house with a Champion to fight in his name to keep them. But Shiro looks satisfied. “You just- you came in here as a nanny and helped build a relationship with my son. A son who wanted nothing to do with me. He hated me- I have my lawyers on speed dial Lance, close your mouth. He _did,_ he had the right to, and I was too scared to act a dad. But you came in and- I've never seen Keith smile so much before you. He loves you and so do I.”

The sudden look of panic on Shiro's face is too much so Lance blurts out, “I love you too” before he can realize he's even doing it. Shiro's breath comes out in a rush and suddenly that's the end of love confessions- he kisses Lance into the mattress, his lips relentless. Lance wraps his arms around Shiro's neck and yanks him down, demanding more- more kisses, more contact, more skin, more _Shiro._

Shiro's hand skates up Lance's shirt, the metal lukewarm against Lance's flushed skin. Lance shivers and he can _feel_ the asshole smile so he wraps a leg around his waist and yanks him forward before pushing in his tongue. Shiro honest to god growls, deep in his chest before he kisses Lance rougher, _needier._

Then Lance bends his neck the wrong way and _oh yeah, that's the whiplash._ Shiro immediately pulls off his mouth. “Are you okay?”

Lance pouts. “You stopped kissing me so no. I'm heartbroken. Inconsolable.”

“Lance.”

Lance laughs. “I'm fine. Just bent my head weird. Can I have more kisses now?” He puckers his lips just to hear Shiro laugh.

“You can have more kisses like that when you're healed.” Lance pouts again and Shiro laughs and relents, peppering his face with small, chaste kisses. “I love these.” He presses a few kisses against Lance's freckles.

His cheeks are on _fire._ “Stoooop, you're embarrassing.”

“Oh, and I love this, too.” He kisses the tip of his nose and Lance groans. “Did I tell you I like these things too? They're really pretty.” He kisses Lance's eyelids and now Lance can't help but grinning like an idiot. “Wow! These are nice, too. Did you have braces?” Shiro leans in and kisses his front teeth.

Lance pushes at Shiro's chest. “Noooo! Oh my God! No more kisses, you fiend!” Lance is laughing, though, and when he opens his eyes Shiro's laughing just as hard as he is. “You're evil.”

Shiro's laughing harder now, his cheeks bright red. “Oh, and you're gonna be gorgeous, too? Right here? Right in front of my salad? Diabolical.” Shiro honest to God snorts before falling off of Lance onto his back, forehead pressed against Lance's shaking shoulder.

When they both are finished crying over how dorky Shiro is and how Lance is absolutely going to use this piece of information for evil purposes they both have tears sitting on their cheeks. Shiro smiles up at him and presses a final kiss to his shoulder. “I'm glad I hired you.”

Lance smiles. “I am, too.”

They're half asleep when the door clambers open. Shiro's the first to sit up, a look of panic on his face before it melts into confusion. “Keith?”

Lance sits up and squints in the gloom. Keith shuffles in, clutching his great red lion to his chest. “I-” he holds the lion tighter. “I just- can I stay here with you two? Please?”

Shiro's speechless so Lance reaches his arms out. “C'mere, little man.” Keith runs over like the invitation will be revoked if he's not fast enough and flings himself in Lance's arms. Lance laughs and hauls him up.

Shiro clears his throat. “Are you- you okay, buddy?”

Keith's eyes flicker to Shiro and he shrugs. “Just a little scared. Only a little.” He squeezes in between Shiro and Lance and wiggles underneath the covers.

“It's okay to be scared sometimes, baby. I'm glad you're telling me.” Shiro smooths Keith's hair before pressing a kiss into it. “Good night, Keith. I love you.”

And the most amazing thing happens; Keith looks up at Shiro, smiles, and whispers, “I love you, too.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late chapter; seasonal depression is kicking my ASS

 

Lance is dreaming about great, big, talking lions when he's accosted by a five year old.

Apparently, the bed isn't a bed anymore; it's been reassigned by Keith as bouncy house of _death_ and _pain_. Lance groans and clings to the body next to him instead of opening his eyes.

“Wake _up!_ ” Keith jumps dangerously close to Lance's sprained ankle. “C'mon, lazy pants, wake up wake up _wake up!”_

Lance cracks his eyes open because despite the screaming banshee posing as Keith he's still exhausted; he needs his beauty sleep, thank you very much. His head throbs, the side of his face pulses, and his ankle's screaming at him. “Baby,” he groans. “C'mon, five more minutes. Ten more minutes. Maybe seven more hours-”

“No!” Keith's voice cracks. “C'mon, you need to wake up, you need to get up _right now.”_

The body next to him sits up, jostling Lance's perfect sleeping position on his chest. “Keith.” Oh. That's Shiro. He was cuddling with Shiro. _Oh._ “You need to calm down and stop.”

“I _can't!”_ Tears prickle at the corners of Keith's eyes, his bottom lip trembling. “I can't calm down-”

Lance gently puts his hands on Keith's shoulders. “Buddy, what’s going on?” When Keith shakes his head Lance tries another tactic. “Look at me.” Keith stops jumping, rubs his eyes, and looks at Lance. “Can you do the breathing exercises papa taught you?”

“I _can't.”_

Shiro's there, then, cupping Keith's face and smoothing his hair. “Yes, you can. Look at me, let's do it together, okay?” Keith's trembling, face stained with tears, but he nods and wipes at his nose. Shiro breathes in deep, holds it, and Keith does the same in shakey puffs of air. They release at the same time. “Good. Let's keep going, okay?” Keith sits down in Lance's lap and nods again, keeps his eyes on his father, and breathes. In, hold, out, in, hold, out, until the shaking stops.

Shiro's smiling, wiping away the tear tracks on Keith's cheeks. “There. You did such a good job, bud. We're proud of you.” Lance kisses the side of Keith's face, just to show how proud he really is. Keith shoves his face in Lance's chest. “Can you tell us what that was about?”

Keith peeks out from Lance's shirt. “Papa.” His voice is small, scared, and so unsure, but he keeps going, the little trooper. Lance holds him tight. “Mama's downstairs.”

Shiro freezes. He opens his mouth and closes it. His fist is curled up so tight it could break, so Lance holds it, gently takes the fingers out one by one. “You told her I was going out with her today, remember? And now she's here.”

“Baby, if you don't want to go-”

“I do!” Keith sits up. “I do want to go! I'm just-” He nibbles on his bottom lip. “I'm just scared. What if she- what if she doesn't like me anymore? She yelled at me in the hospital. I don't wanna get yelled at again. I wanna go but I'm _sc_ _ared,_ Lance.”

Lance cups Keith's face with both hands, smooths down his baby cheeks, and smiles at him. “Sometimes parents yell, but that doesn't mean they don't love you. Your papa and I will talk to her about it, but I promise you, she loves you more than anything. Okay, buddy?” Lance presses a kiss to his forehead. “It'll be alright.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Lance glances at Shiro. He's frozen, the color gone from his face; honestly, he looks two seconds away from fainting. Fuck. “You think you can get changed super duper fast for me?”

Keith nods. “I'm the most super duper fast changer _ever.”_ And with the confidence of a super hero he flies off the bed and charges off to his room down the hall.

Lance waits until he hears Keith's door slam shut. “Hey,” he says. Shiro looks at Lance like he's noticing him for the first time this morning. He's not there, not fully, so Lance cups his face, traces circles on his cheekbones. “You know, we can still run. Change our names, commit identity fraud. Go to Cuba.”

 _That_ gets Shiro out of it. He laughs, turns his face and kisses Lance's palm. “You're great, you know that?”

Lance swallows. Why is he so easy to blush? He's going to have to call his mama and complain about that because, obviously, it's her fault. Stupid genetics. “Uh, duh.”

Shiro stays like that, his face against Lance's palm, breath fanning over his fingers. And Lance wants to stay like that forever; Shiro's lips against his hand, heart beat fluttering. He feels rather than hears Shiro sigh. “It's stupid to be so afraid of her.”

“No, it's not.” Shiro laughs, dry and humorless, so Lance flicks him in the forehead. “I swear, Takashi Shirogane, I will come over there and destroy you. One on one combat. Fight to the death.” Shiro laughs genuinely this time. “Seriously.” He softens his voice, smooths down the tuft of white hair just to see it pop back up. “It's not stupid. She left you when you needed her. It's reasonable to be upset about it, baby.”

Shiro shoves his face deeper into Lance's palm, trying to hide, probably. Lance laughs. “I'll be with you the entire time. I promise.”

Shiro looks up, a barely contained smile peeking through. “Cross your heart?”

“And hope to die.”

And with that Shiro pulls his face out of Lance's hand. Before he can get upset about it he presses his lips against Lance's. He's slow, drinking Lance in, stealing his breath. And it's so fucking _easy_ to lean in and kiss back, like he knows Shiro's mouth by heart. Like they were made for this, for loving each other.

Shiro pulls back and kisses Lance's forehead. “Do you think you can make it to your room to get changed?”

How do you breathe again? Lance forgot. “Uh.” Shiro laughs so Lance pushes his face away. “As much as I want to be carried like the prince I am, you need to get changed too. I'll make it, big guy.”

Surprisingly, he does make it to his room. It's a struggle to get his binder on but he manages and only sweats a _little,_ thank you very much.

When he was at home, he shared his room with his big sister. It was fine, really; he loved waking up to be with someone, to spend hours past bed time whispering under sheets, sharing secrets, spilling hopes and dreams. So it's weird, now, to wake up to no one at all.

It felt more than natural to wake up to Shiro. He wasn't waking up to another person, to another body like he did with one night stands and failed relationships. He woke up and felt... _Like I was home._

Lance snorts at himself. “How fuckin' sappy.”

It's more of a struggle to get downstairs with his ankle. It's slow going, but as he gets closer to downstairs he hears Keith's mother talking. So he stops, leans against the wall, and listens.

“...you can't be so mean to him, Alaina.”

“I wasn't being _mea_ _n-”_

“You yelled at him-”

“You coddle him-”

“He's _special-”_

“He needs to _grow up._ And so do you, apparently.”

Lance can _feel_ the tense silence, can practically taste the bubbling frustration and anger. He reaches the landing and coughs.

Shiro's head snaps in his direction. “You need help, baby?” Lance nods, having the decency to flush a little under Alaina's scrutiny. Shiro's there, though, and instead of being a normal person and letting Lance lean on him he picks Lance up bridal style. Lance squeals and clings to him.

Alaina's deathly silent as Shiro walks him over and puts him in a chair.

It's eerie, how much she looks like Keith. The face shape, the eyes, even her nose is all Keith. He flashes his best smile. “Nice to meet you. I'm-”

“Shiro's new boyfriend?” Lance's smile falters.

“ _Lance._ His name is Lance.”

“Your new boyfriend.”

“And the nanny!” Lance pipes up. Alaina's head snaps to him so fast she must have whiplash. Oops. “Uh, until last night, I guess. I've been taking care of Keith for months now.”

Alaina raises a golden eyebrow. “Really. Until last night.”

“Nothing happened,” Shiro snaps. “Nothing that's your _business-”_

“What you do around my son-”

“- _our son-”_

“- _is_ my business.”

“We didn't have sex, Alaina, if that's what you're insinuating.” Lance's ears burn. “We're going slow.”

Alaina snorts. “You? Slow? Do you not remember how we met?”

It's Lance's turn to be interested. He leans in. Juicy gossip? Count him in. “How did you two meet?”

Shiro rubs the bridge of his nose. “I was training at a base in Chicago. We met at the Navy Pier.”

“I'm from Chicago,” Alaina chips in. “The Navy Pier is a tourist trap, really, but I was meeting a few friends from out of city there. It was night, there were drinks, and one thing led to another.”

Lance gapes. “You're a one night stand man, Shiro?”

Shiro groans. “It was one time! I was young and tipsy and Alaina was...nice.”

“And easy.” Shiro raises his eyebrows and Alaina laughs. “It's true. I was young, you were handsome and a military man. And that's how we got Keith. First night we met.”

“How did you get me?” a small voice asks. Keith's standing there, his new flannel buttoned up right to his chin and knitted hat snug over his ears. “Did you ask the stork?”

Alaina stands up. “Wow, look at the time! We gotta go get those apples, Keith! Let's go!”

Shiro nods. “Yup, the time. Gotta go, bud. I'll see you later, okay?”

Keith shrugs into his jacket and smiles, shy and unsure. “I like apples.”

And with that they're gone, hand in hand out the door. Shiro sighs and slumps in his seat, apparently melted from the sheer amount of awkwardness. “I'm not ready to tell him where babies come from, Lance. You're going to have to do it.”

“Me?” Lance squawks. “Listen, I'll tell him, but it'll be grimy. Dirty. Full of truth. None of that cute, 'mommy and daddy loved each other and kissed and we pooped you out.' Are you ready for that?”

Shiro's laughing and shoving his face in his hands. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Lance bites his bottom lip. Slowly, he slinks into Shiro's lap, straddling him. “Iounno, Shiro. What're you gonna do with me?”

Shiro's hands fall away, eyes wide and eyebrows up to his hairline. “'Cause I have an idea.” Lance leans in, presses his nose to Shiro's, lets his breath tickle his upper lip. “I got Lord of the Rings extended edition. The boxset. It's downstairs in the theatre room and I'm fuckin' _psyched.”_

Shiro laughs so hard Lance nearly falls out of his lap. His cheeks go pink and Lance can't help but laugh, too, grinning like an idiot. “Lord of the Rings it is,” Shiro wheezes. Lance punches the air in victory. Shiro picks Lance up and Lance squeals, clinging to his shoulders. Fuck yes.

 

* * *

“I don't want to go in the car.”

Mama stops and looks over at Keith, an eyebrow raised. “Don't you want to go pick apples for Thanksgiving? So we can make apple pie like last year?”

And he _does,_ he _loves_ apple pie and last year they sent some to papa over a bunch of seas so pie is good, pie's the best, so apples are the best. But when he looks over to the garage he remembers Lance's blue car and how it got all broke and Lance-

“I just don't _wanna!_ Can't we- can't we walk? Lance says walking is good for you. We can even jog a little, too, I'm a good jogger-”

“Keith-”

“-I'm a good sprinter, too, I can sprint and it'll be a race and it'll be _fun_ just _don't make me-”_

“Keith!”

“- _don't make me get in the car!”_ He squeezes his eyes shut shut shut but Mama's heels still click closer to him until Keith can feel her breath. Even in the darkness he knows she's frowning. She's always frowning. “Please.”

“Keith.” He holds his breath. Maybe if he's blue he won't have to go in the car. “Keith, if you don't breathe you'll pass out, and we won't get apples at all.” Maybe apples are stupid. “You'll get hurt. You don't want that, do you? You'd have to go back to the hospital.”

Keith's eyes fly open. “No no no- no more hospital-”

“Then don't pass out.” Keith's chest feels funny so he breathes like how papa taught him. “See, look at that. You're doing a good job breathing.” Obviously. “We have to get in the car to go anywhere that we can't walk to. You're going to have to get over this, Keith.”

Keith bites the insides of his cheeks. “Papa says it's okay to be scared sometimes.”

“I don't-” Mama breathes out angry. “Your dad's right. We're all scared sometimes. But you can't make that stop you from living your life.” Mama presses her lips into a red lipstick line. “Get in the car now, please.”

“Can I get Red?”

Another eyebrow raise. “Excuse me?”

“Red! The lion Lance made me.” He spreads out his arms. “He's big but not _too_ big and he's super duper fast, like me. He's a good sprinter and I love him.” When Mama doesn't look impressed even a little bit Keith pushes out his bottom lip. “I _love him.”_

Mama waits and breathes her own exercises, too, before she stands up and walks up the driveway and back to the front door.

There's nothing to do so Keith squats down and hugs his knees because he wants to sit down but _can't-_ no Red, no big boy car seat, nope.

Lance made Red while Keith was at school. It took him a whole _week,_ but Lance has a blue one in his room that _his_ mama made him. And Lance is kinda like Keith's mama, when Mama isn't around. Keith sleeps with Red every night; Red is on the right side of the bed, Keith is on the left, and when there's nightmares and Keith needs cuddles Red comes, too, even though Red is never afraid.

So he needs Red to be brave, even though the nightmare isn't happening in bed. It's still scary.

Mama click-clack's over to him and shoves Red at him. He tells her to be careful but she only flings the car door open and gestures to his big boy car seat like a magician showing a trick. “You've got your toy-”

“My _Red.”_

“-now let's _go_ before the farm closes and we have to wait until next weekend.”

Keith huffs and puffs and clambers into the car. He buckles himself into his seat and buckles Red into the seat next to him. Just in case.

Mama drives down the long road and out the gates of their community. She's fiddling with the radio but none of the music sounds good; maybe the Keith playlist is only on Lance's phone. That'd be dumb. “Don't you have a Keith playlist on your phone, mama?”

Mama looks back in her little mirror. “No, my phone doesn't have that, Keith.”

Mama's phone is dumb.

Keith counts Red's whiskers and paw beans to pass the time, instead, since Mama doesn't like to sing with the radio like Lance does. Keith used to think it was weird, but it's fun, too, especially when he makes funny faces and dances. Fun and weird.

“So...” Mama's looking in the little mirror again. “Your nanny-”

“My _Lance._ ”

“Right. Your Lance. Is he...nice?”

Keith holds onto Red's paw and nods. “The nicest. He cuddles with me when I'm scared and helps me with my homework. We go on adventures, too, like to the park and the beach. One time we went to Disney Land.”

Mama drums her nails on the steering wheel. “Right, right.” Her voice goes high pitched a little bit. “And is he nice to your dad?”

Keith holds onto Red tighter. “I guess?” He shrugs. “Lance makes papa eat and sleep and sometimes it makes papa grumpy but he does it. But he makes papa laugh, too, and made him hang out with me more. We always have breakfast together now and he texts me lots.” He bites the insides of his lips, feels his teeth with his tongue. “They started kissing today, though. Is that weird?”

“What, for two men to kiss?”

Keith shrugs again.

“Of course not, baby. People can kiss whoever they want as long as everyone says yes.”

Keith's chest feels funny again so he breathes a little bit. “You used to kiss papa and then you left. Does that mean Lance will leave, too?”

Mama's mouth is a red lipstick line again. “Just because someone kisses your papa doesn't mean they'll leave. I left-”

“Because papa was sick and couldn't take care of us.”

“Right, right.” Mama sounds sarcastic when she says it, though, which papa says is rude. “Well, if your papa takes care of Lance then I don't see why he would leave. He loves you, this Lance.” She slows down to a stop; they're already at the farm they used to go to, with rows and rows of great big trees reaching their arms into the sky. “Okay?”

 _He loves me._ Keith gulps. “Okay.”

* * *

Shiro and Lance are in a very heated discussion about Sam and Frodo's relationship when the theatre doors slam open. Keith bounds in, knitted gloves and hat still on, and gives his best grin. “Papa, Lance, I got the best apples _ever.”_

Shiro pauses the movie and grins right back at him. “Tell me about it, bud.”

And Keith runs over and leaps into Lance's lap. Lance is in Shiro's lap, so it's a dangerous and risky performance, but they manage just fine, all clinging to each other. Keith talks about how big the trees were, how he had to go on mama's shoulders to get the best apples aaallll the way on the top. “So we got the best apples ever, so much better than last year's apples because I'm bigger and stronger! Mama said I'm a little man, but I don't know.”

“We're gonna make apple pie the day before Thanksgiving but I wanna make something with you guys, too. Maybe not papa. Papa can watch. He can't touch.”

Shiro laughs. “I won't touch, I promise.”

Lance pulls Keith in tight, tight, tight. “I'll make you some pumpkin flan, how about that? Learn something new?” Keith's face lights up and he starts babbling about turkey nad mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes but all Lance can think of is:

How is he going to tell mami he's not coming home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you guys like a thanksgiving chapter??


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings of transphobia in this chapter!

Shiro feels bad for not buying a new suit for the occasion.

And it _is_ an occasion, no matter what Lance says- it's his _family,_ and first impressions are everything. They can make or break a deal and Shiro, master of making million dollar deals, is in standing in his walk in closet _shaking in his boots._

He needs to wear a suit.

He picks the ash Tom Ford one, complete with gold cufflinks and a straight blue tie. He wore this one to a charity event months ago and luckily it still fits, snug as can be. He looks good. He looks- does he look good? Actually?

He feels arms snake around his middle. “Babe.” Shiro hums distractedly. “This isn't a ball. We're not meeting Cinderella. This is my _parents._ ”

“Exactly! That's absolutely more important than _Cinderella._ Do you think this is enough?” He turns around and presents himself.

And Lance _laughs._

“Shiroooo! Shiro you look- you look-”

“That bad?”

“Like you're going to meet the Queen of England. You're lucky if my brothers have pants on.”

Shiro's frowning so hard his face hurts. “Lance I just- I just want your mom to be...” Impressed? “Accepting.”

Lance wipes a tear from his face and sets out to unbuttoning Shiro's shirt. “You're such a nerd. She's gonna love you, I promise. But if you show up in a thousand dollar suit they're gonna look at you funny. Because it's a family dinner and also? You're looking hot. So hot.” He starts fanning himself. _“It's getting' hot in here, so hot, so take off all your clothes-”_

“No more early 2000 songs, Lance. We talked about this.” Lance pouts. “What should I wear, oh wise one?”

Lance grins and sets about throwing Shiro's clothes about. By the time he's found his holy grail his closet is a _mess._ He's gonna have to pay his maid extra this week. Lance throws his arms up in victory.

“Here you go!”

And it's...jeans?

Black jeans that Shiro _knows_ is going to cling to him and a simple button up blue flannel. That's it. Like he's going pumpkin picking again or something. He sighs, long and suffering. “This isn't _casual-”_

“Only it is! It's actually super, duper, amazingly, casual. It's Christmas Eve. There's gonna be little kids running around with dirty diapers. We're gonna help in the kitchen. This is perfect, trust me.” He gestures to his own outfit; light blue denim jeans and a red button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. “We're perfect, darling.”

Shiro groans, snatches up the outfit, and actually stomps to their bathroom. Which is childish. Very Keith like, he _knows,_ but still- last time he met a significant other's parents it was...different. At a lavish home in Chicago with a _live orchestra_. Alaina wore silk and her parents held the most expensive champagne for Christmas dinner. Shiro busted out two grand for a suit and Alaina still didn't like it.

And now he's wearing jeans.

By the time he's done putting it on Keith and Lance are already at the door. Lance is fussing over Keith, yanking his hair in a braid and trying desperately to get hot chocolate off his face. He's muttering in Spanish, frowning to himself and- shaking. Lance is shaking.

Before he's able to ask why Lance is standing up straight and plastering on a smile. “Hey, handsome. You got a boyfriend?”

Shiro laughs. “I do. The best in the world.”

Lance smiles a little more real this time but there's still a quality of panic about him. Shiro doesn't know why, so he holds his hand, traces shapes on the back of it and smiles at him. “You ready?”

“I was born ready.”

In the car Lance blasts Keith's playlist and they both bounce around in their seats, singing, and it would be almost normal if Lance wasn't glancing at his phone like it was a bomb. Shiro lowers the music. “Love,” he says, “are you okay?”

Lance smiles. “It's just been a while. Three years, you know? That's a long time.”

Shiro frowns and reaches over for Lance's hand. “Why three years?”

It's quiet for a beat, long enough for the next song to play before Lance says so quietly he almost misses it, “They keep calling me Lucia. So I don't see them.” Lance huffs. “Ma's fine though; she calls me my name, calls me her son. So it's all bueno in that department. Just- it's hard. But they wanted me here this time. So it's fine. It'll be fine.” Lance smiles. “Right?”

Shiro smiles, more assured, less shaky. “Right.”

By the time Shiro rolls into the gravel driveway, Lance is almost shaking.

The house is normal; two stories, a little squat and in need of repair. But it fits the rest of the houses on the block, almost identical save for the bright blue front door and an amazing amount of cars parked in front of it. Lance turns in his seat. “Ready, little buddy?”

Keith shrugs. “Adult parties are boring. You just talk and drink stuff I can't drink.”

“Buuuuut, my nephew's here! He's your age. You guys will have so much fun!”

Keith narrows his eyes. “I don't like him,” he decides.

“What?” Shiro frowns. “You haven't even met him yet-”

“I just! Lance is my Lance. Not his Lance. I don't like him.” And with that he pushes open the door and slams it shut.

Lance and Shiro share a glance. Now that's a discussion for later.

They all enter the house holding hands and the minute they get in there's _screaming._ And suddenly a short woman is barreling down the hallway, arms open, a smile split on her wrinkled face. “Lance!”

Lance brightens and gasps. “Ma!”

They collide, clinging to each other. Lance has to bend down to hold her properly and Shiro can see the distinct shaking of his mom's back. _Three years._ His heart aches. His own mother passed away years ago while he was in service, his father not far behind. But Lance- Lance has his mom. And Lance loves his mom. _And Shiro's wearing fucking jeans._

The two of them peel away and start wiping their eyes, smiling bright and wobbly. Shiro should really learn some Spanish to understand but the tone; loving, warm, and uniquely _Lance._

And then a pair of watery blue eyes is fixed on him and Shiro is overcome with terror. She marches over and looks at him up and down before smiling. “So this is the man that stole my Lance for Thanksgiving?”

Shiro gulps and then Keith pipes up behind him, “We didn't steal Lance because stealing is _naughty._ Santa won't come if we steal. Duh.”

Lance's mother kneels down to see Keith. “Ah. There you are. I've heard a lot about you, young man. Come here, let me see how big you are.”

Keith looks up at Shiro in askance and Shiro smiles and nods. What's the harm?

Keith slowly shuffles out from behind Shiro's legs. Lance's mother makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, I like your hair. Very nice braid. Did my son do that to you?” Keith nods and she smiles. “You know, I hear you like swords, and Lance made you your very own lion. Does he have a sword, too?”

Keith screws up his face and shakes his head. “All the swords are no good for Red. He needs the best sword.”

Lance's mom nods like she understands completely. “Well, I hope this is good enough for your Red.” She pulls out a small sword, knitted and stuffed lightly. It even has a hilt, stitched with several different shades of red.

Keith gasps. “For me?” When Lance's mom nods Keith snatches the sword and holds it like it's precious. “Red is gonna _love it._ Thank you Miss. Lance's Mama.”

Lance's mom laughs a laugh that's so much like Lance it makes his head spin. “Call me abuela, okay, little man?”

Keith purses his lips. “Abueeellaaaaaa,” he sounds out. “What's that mean?”

“Means grandma, Keith. You're part of the family now, yes? You and your papa?” Keith's eyes grow round and Shiro feels his heart clench. _Family._

Shiro clears his throat. “Baby, look, there's Lance's nephew he was telling you about. You wanna go play?”

Keith nods his head furiously. “Gonna show him what _my_ abueeellaaa made me.” And with that he's off, sprinting away.

“And you,” she says, pointing at Shiro. Even at 5'2 she's terrifying. “You're family, but if you hurt my baby, no one will find your body. You understand?” Shiro nods twice for good measure. She smiles. “Good. The rest of my children aren't here yet, so let me introduce you to my son in law Derek and daughter Noiva, yes?”

Lance swallows. “Noiva and Derek are here?”

Lance's mother hums and completely misses the split second of discomfort on Lance's face. _Are they so bad?_ “Did you know Maria is out in Europe now?”

Lance gasps. “Lucky bitch! I always wanted to go, uuugghh.” Shiro hums, making a note of that.

In the corner of his eye he spots-

“Do you have a dog?”

Lance's mom smiles. “Oh, that's Ash. He's old and half blind, but we love him all the same. C'mere, Ash!” And a stubby, fat, dopey looking shih-tzu waddles out from a little doggy tent. His tongue is lolling out of his mouth, eyes hazy from age but-

“I _love_ dogs.” He kneels down and pets his fur, smiling as the dog's tail starts to wag. “I used to have one when I was little. His name was Armstrong. Passed away when I was in service.” Lance is about to open his mouth when Shiro waves him away. “It's fine. It was a long time ago. I just- there's nothing like having a dog, you know?”

Lance smiles and kneels down. He presses a kiss to the side of Shiro's face and it would be romantic if Keith wasn't _screaming-_

“No, it's _my sword!”_ Shiro snaps his head to see Keith _growling_ at a cowering child. Oh boy.

“Babe-”

“It's fine.” Lance smiles, strained and forced. Two people are coming their way, Noiva and Derek, he guesses. “Just- do what you gotta do, okay? Make sure there's no slaughter?”

Shiro nods, kisses Lance's cheek, and runs to Keith.

* * *

 

He's fine.

Shiro's meeting his family, they're getting along, Keith is picking only _one fight,_ so everything's fine. It's great.

And he hasn't seen Derek in, what, three years? So it's fine. _One on one brother in law bonding time,_ he thinks as he watches Shiro weave through the crowd, _just like in a white Christmas movie._

Only he doesn't like Derek. He's balding and has the distinct impression of someone who calls their basement a _man cave._ Derek opens his mouth and Lance knows in his gut he's about to start talking about his new porch project so Lance blurts out, “How's my niece doing?”

Derek groans and leans back into the cushioned seats. “Well, she's sick for one. Probably got it from the daycare. Novia's looking for a new place now, keeps talking about how it's too close to the highway or something like that. You know how it is Luc- Lance.”

Lance sips more of the spiked punch and prays it's spiked enough to make this conversation interesting. “Sucks, man. I hope she gets better fast.”

“Oh, she will, it's just the sniffles. Novia's too paranoid. If she had her way April would be quarantined for a month.”

 _That_ gets a laugh from Lance. “Shiro's the same with Keith. We took him ice skating and Shiro brought shin and elbow protectors. Made him wear three pairs of sweats _and_ leggings underneath it all.”

Derek makes a noise between a hum and a grunt- do dads practice those? Is it only a dad thing? Shiro doesn't do that, but maybe it's cause he's hot. “You talk about Keith like he's your own.” He raises his hands in a placating manner. “Not like that's bad! If you're planning to be a step dad or somethin'. Are you planning to, you know,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “give him a lil playmate?”

“What, like a friend? Do you know any kids who want a playdate because seriously we gotta get on it-”

“A _sibling._ ” Oh. Lance takes a big gulp of punch.

“I'm only twenty three, dude.”

“I know, I know, but it doesn't hurt to start planning. Adoption is hard. And if you're looking for fertility treatments like how we did it's _expensive.”_

Lance remembers those, about the hours Novia spent on the phone with him, crying her eyes out. _It's just not working,_ she'd repeat, _nothing's working at all._ But it all worked out in the end, years later with little April popping out healthy as can be. But judging by his nonexistent sex life and the fact he's had two abortions before he doesn't really need to think about fertility for him and- fuck, _kids?_ Him, a parent?

_Aren't I already one?_

Suddenly the drink is plucked out of his hands and sloshed down the mouth of his evil, thief sister looming above him. “Are we talking babies?” she asks.

Derek smiles. “We're talking about babies, hun.” He actually pats his knee, _gross,_ and Novia actually _gets on._

He gags. “I need my drink! Quick! Novia, throw it back up!”

She throws a pillow at his face. “Less throwing up and more babies.”

“The two usually come hand in hand,” Derek murmurs.

“Hush!” She turns intense blue eyes back on her brother. Something dies inside of him. “Are you having a baby?”

“No-”

“Have you _seen_ who you're with?” She points to Shiro across the room who's very sternly talking to a fuming Keith. To be fair to Novia, his butt _does_ look great from here.

“Do you remember I'm twenty three? Besides-” _I have a kid._

“Are you worried about the whole,” she makes hand motions in his general direction, “ _transgendered_ thing?”

“Transgender-”

“Because, it's not like it's set in stone, right? You still have a chest. Your boobs aren't _gone_ so if you really want a kid just- stop taking the uh, whatever you're taking, and you're back to normal, yeah?”

Why is it so fucking hot in the room? He pulls at his sweater and- his binder. He curls his fingers into fists. “I _am_ normal.”

“Oh, honey, of _course_ you are.” But she's saying it like she's telling her kid Santa exists or something and it just- it makes him so- “But don't you want to have a baby some day? It's one of the most amazing experiences, sweetheart, it really is.”

He scrubs at his eyes. “Really? Pissing yourself and sore boobs? Sounds like fun.”

“Bringing a whole new life into the world? It's worth it. When you were little you talked about it all the time.”

“Best thing I did was start a family,” Derek pipes up. “This whole _phase_ thing will end once you and your fella start getting serious and you figure out being a mom is worth it. Guarantee. You wanna make a bet? Twenty bucks.” He actually _retrieves a twenty dollar bill_ and smacks it down on the coffee table. “You in?”

The room is spinning but he gets up anyway and scrubs at his eyes so he can actually _see._ Novia blinks. “Honey-”

“ _Lance,”_ he grits out. “Not honey, not sweetheart, not Lucia- _Lance.”_ And before either of them can say anything, before they can even open their mouths, Lance steps over their legs and locks himself in the bathroom. Turns the fan on. Tries to breathe but it's not _working._ He pushes his hands up his binder and feels just to feel because it was _normal_ this morning it was _fine_ but-

If everyone's saying it's wrong, how can it _not_ be?

“Breathe,” he growls, “breathe you _idiot.”_ But now he's crying instead, crying and blubbering and- he doesn't notice he can't stand until his ass smashes into the tiled floor and he _can't breathe._

There's banging on the door and he slaps a hand over his mouth like how he used to do at home. _Why can't they leave me alone?_

“Lance?”

And there's that one voice that can make him breathe just for _a second._

“Baby, I'm gonna kick down the door-”

Lance starts laughing. “Don't-” he hiccups, “don't kick down the door I'm coming!” He scrambles up on his knees because he is _not_ getting up and unlocks the door and there's the face of an angel right above him.

He quickly comes in and closes the door behind him, locking it. He slides down on the floor too and doesn't ask a question, not one, just pulls Lance flush with him and holds him.

Lance is laughing until he's not, until the sobs come back and he's clinging to Shiro like his life depends on it and maybe it does- it feels like it, feels like if he lets go then everyone else will come back, pull him apart, make him something else all over again. “I thought-” he coughs, his throat raw. “I thought they were _okay_ with me, Shiro.”

Shiro holds him closer, rubs his back in soothing circles until Lance can breathe correctly. “Is this why you were worried at home?”

Lance shoves his face in Shiro's shoulder. “Kind of? Yes? I just- I really thought- I thought that after three years they'd be okay with me. They _said_ they were okay with me. They _wanted_ me here.”

“They're being awful-”

“But what if they're right?” Lance pulls away and there's the tears again, clouding his vision. “If I just get the surgery then- then-”

“They'll what, leave you alone?” Shiro's face scrunches up. “Baby, there's nothing for you to fix about yourself. You're perfect.”

“If I'm letting this get to me am I even trans-”

“Lance-”

“- _what if they're right-”_

And there's Shiro again, holding Lance's face in between his hands, looking him in his snot covered face, right in his eyes. “Do you want the surgery?”

Lance's breath hitches. “I-” He looks down at himself. At his body, the body that's capable of taking care of Keith, of swimming faster and longer than anyone else. Of the body he more often than not loves. “No. I never- I never did.”

Shiro smiles and kisses the top of his head. “Then don't get it. Why go through a physically and emotionally taxing surgery when you don't want to? You're perfect.”

“Uh, obviously.” He wipes his gross nose on his sleeve which is gross but whatever. He's entitled to being gross. Shiro leans over him and grabs a piece of toilet paper instead, like a normal person. “Not that I'm not uh, enjoying myself but...”

Shiro helps Lance stand up and starts the process of washing Lance's tear stained face. “I hear there's great hot cocoa in the Shirogane residence,” he murmurs, taking extra care on Lance's cheeks. “And there's a very big bed that I bet you miss.” Lance hums an affirmative and basks in the smile Shiro gives. “And we still need to wrap Keith's presents.”

 _And I still need to pick up yours._ “So I guess we're obligated to go home then, huh.”

Shiro sighs as he dries Lance's face. “Really, it's a shame.”

Before Shiro can turn the door handle Lance stops him. “I just-” Shiro tilts his head so Lance says fuck it and leans it, presses his lips to Shiro's. It's soft and Shiro leans into it, holds Lance's face and breathes into him, makes him feel stronger than he really is. When they pull back Lance feels ready to leave. “Thank you.”

Shiro blinks. “For what?”

“For everything, you loser.” Shiro laughs and turns the door.

There's several people waiting for them but the smallest one is the loudest.

“ _Lance!”_ Keith stares up eyes wide with worry and then- fury. “They made you _cry.”_ Before Lance or Shiro can say anything he grabs both of them by their fingers and turns to the small crowd outside of the bathroom. Actually _puffs out_ his chest and announces, “You're all _naughty_ and have no Christmas spirit! No good kid would ever ever make Lance cry so we're _leaving_ and gonna have a great Christmas where there's no naughty people!” He looks over his shoulder. “Right papa?”

Shiro smiles at him and looks nowhere else but his son. “That's right, baby.”

His mama is standing in front of the door. “Absolutely not. Sit down, calm down, have a meal-”

“Mama,” Lance says quietly. “I can't. I can't just- be here with people who won't even say my _name.”_

“They need time to adjust-”

“It's been three years. _Three years_ and they still think it's a phase.”

Mama's face drops and Lance wants to cry but he won't. Not right now, at least. Maybe at home. “I don't think that, hijo.”

Lance scrubs his face with his free hand. “I know, ma. But- can't you see why it's overwhelming? I just- I can't-”

“I'll talk to them about it-”

“I just can't be here, ma.” And there's the tears in his eyes. Before they can spill he steps forward and kisses her cheek. “We'll set something up where it's just you and me, okay?”

Before he can pull away his mother's hands are cradling his face. “No matter what,” she whispers, “you are my _son. Lo entiendes?”_

Lance can't trust his voice so he nods, smiles, and gives another kiss before he's out the door with a fuming Keith in the front and understanding Shiro in the back.

And then he's in the car, crying into his hands again. Shiro's murmuring nonsense, about how it's all okay, how he loves him, how Keith loves him, and Lance can't stop _crying_ until-

his stomach growls and he realizes none of them ate.

* * *

 

Lance was dreaming of his ma's food. He's a decent cook and Shiro can, literally, get him the best food money can buy, but there's just something about his mother's cooking that _really_ makes the holidays special. He isn't ashamed to say he literally _dreamt_ of Christmas dinner the minute they threw away the rest of the turkey. (He will never admit that was the reason he was drooling in his sleep to Shiro, though. He'd rather die.)

So, okay, maybe it's a little dumb to cry about food on the holidays but Lance really can't help it. He's an emotional guy. A real bleeding heart. Lance knew they were all hungry and suggested Chinese food but Shiro, the resourceful guy he is, shook his head, pulled out his fancy magic phone, and had them on their way to a very familiar place.

“How did you _know_ about this place?!” Lance demands. They're getting closer, the little hole in the wall coming up just down the street. “Seriously man! I didn't even tell you-”

“Well, you mentioned he owned a restaurant a few times.” Shiro puts the car in park and shrugs, flashing a smile. “Just had to look up if he was open.”

Lance squeals and flings himself across the seats and gives the best, most messy kiss in the world, resolutely ignoring a disgusted Keith in the background.

He's clambering out of the car before Shiro's even turned it off and kicks down the restaurant door, cups his hands over his mouth, and yells, _“Hunk!”_

It takes thirty seconds for said Hunk of burning love to poke his head out of the kitchen door and raise a beautifully made eyebrow at him before gasping. “Dude!”

In front of an entire, very tiny restaurant and maybe two customers, Hunk picks Lance off his feet and twirls him around. Lance clings on because he'd probably crash through the wall if he didn't but he'd _thank_ Hunk for the pleasure because it's _Hunk._

When he finally puts Lance down he looks him up and down, grinning like an idiot. “Dude, my man! What're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with your family?”

Oh.

“His family is dumb and stupid and made him cry so papa brought us here.” Lance looks down at Keith half hiding behind Lance's leg. Shiro's right behind him.

Hunk raises an eyebrow before Shiro's sticking his hand out. “Lance has told me all about you, Hunk. It's a lovely establishment you have here.”

“Aw, shucks, thanks. It's me and Shay's pride and joy.” And then Hunk's eyes narrow and he tightens his grip on Shiro's hand. “If you hurt him I'll make it look like an accident.”

Shiro swallows. “Understood.”

And then Hunk's smiling, bright like the sun, and gesturing to a table. “Guys, sit, I'll have something out for you.”

Once Hunks out of earshot Shiro leans in. “He seems...nice.”

“He won't _actually_ hurt you.”

“I know that!” Though the look on his face says that no, he does not know nor believe that. “Is it alright to ask why he's open on Christmas Eve?”

Lance shrugs and leans in his seat. “He's Jewish and his wife Shay is Muslim so.”

Keith gasps. “I know what those things are! I learned them! Rugrats had a whoooole episode about Jewishism! He's like Tommy Pickles.”

Shiro looks at Lance. “You showed him Rugrats?”

“It's a classic. An art. Much like _Romeo and Juliet._ It would be a _sin_ not to raise our child on it.” He looks at Keith. “Baby, wait- do you have something in your jacket?”

Keith stills. “No.”

Shiro frowns and puts his hand out, palm up. “Cough it up, buddy.”

“But I don't have _anything-”_

“Now.”

After a stare down Keith pouts and pulls out a- cupcake. A very smushed, half destroyed cupcake from his pocket. “Lance didn't get any so I took one and hid it. You said stealing was bad but they were bad so I took the cupcakes. Because Lance was sad and I wanted to make him happy, I guess. But you ruined it, _papa.”_

Lance gasps and wrangles the cupcake out of Shiro's grasp. “Baby! Oh, sweetheart! I love these cupcakes! Mama makes them all the time- I didn't even think-” Lance runs over and gives a big fat kiss to Keith's cheek. “Did I tell you how much I love you? Cause I do.”

Keith's making disgusted noises but his cheeks and ears are pink and he's failing to bite back a smile. Shiro's in the middle of discussing how it's wrong to steal no matter how mean the person is when Hunk comes out with three plates balanced on his arms.

“Coming in hot!” Hunk calls. Keith stares wide eyed and raises his arms as far away as possible from the table. “Not _that_ hot.”

Hunk places the plates down to reveal a steaming plate of prime rib and mashed potatoes. Not any mashed potatoes- _Hunk's_ red bliss potatoes with minced garlic, parsley, and vinegar. Lance is dying. He's dying and seeing the light in the form of mashed potatoes and prime rib. “Hunk. Buddy. My man. I love you.”

Keith giggles. “Lance loves lots of people.” He smiles, shy, up at Hunk. “Thanks for cutting mine up. Cuttings hard.”

Hunk plops down next to Lance and ruffles Keith's hair. “No problem, kiddo.” He turns his attention to Lance and gives him The Look. “Listen,” he starts. “I know it's none of my business, and it's Christmas Eve or whatever, but what happened with your family?”

Prime rib looks great. It's very nice looking, especially when he's avoiding looking at everything else. “You know. Just my family refusing to acknowledge that I'm trans. This time they all insisted I get top surgery.”

Keith shovels in potatoes. “Top surgery? Like you cut up a shirt or somethin'?

Shiro's about to shush him when Lance waves him away. “No, no biggie. Just surgery to get rid of-” he gestures to his chest.

“Boobs?” Keith asks. His brows wrinkled and there's potatoes _everywhere_ on his face. “So? Hunk and papa have boobs. What's wrong with them?” He lifts up his shirt and points to his chest. “I got boobs too.” Shiro starts choking on a piece of meat so Lance has to smack him on the back until he's fine. “Everyone got boobs. Just some are tiny and some are big 'cause we're all different or whatever. Lance says that's good. Lance says being different is great.”

Lance thinks he broke a rib trying not to laugh. Gently he pulls down Keith's shirt and smiles at him. “Yeah, baby, being different is great. I'm really glad you remembered that.”

Keith puffs out his chest. “'Cause I remember all the important things, _duh.”_

Hunk gets up red faced and trying to catch his breath. “Alright, guys, gotta go make food for my customers and their boobs, too.” He smiles down at Keith. “You're really smart, you know that?”

And Keith's grease covered mouth splits into a grin.

* * *

 

Lance is smart and _knows_ the minute the sun comes up Keith's going to be up so instead of waiting for a bomb to drop on their bed, they decide to wake Keith up.

He's a little bundle propped up by his red lion, clinging to it even in sleep. Lance has to stop so his heart doesn't _explode_ in his chest. “Not to sound like a cheesy old lady,” Lance whispers, “but this might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles and kisses the side of Lance's face. He's still exhausted but managed to grab a cup of coffee before Lance dragged him down. “Me, too.” And it occurs to Lance that this is Shiro's first Christmas with Keith, too. Which is probably why Keith has over twenty presents from Shiro alone and why Shiro started shopping for them in September. “You think he'll like everything?”

Lance smiles and leans into Shiro's side. “He's gonna love everything. Pinky promise.” And then, without warning, he yells, _“Keith, Santa!”_

Keith bolts upright with one eye open. “Wuuuuh-?”

“Keith! Keith, I went downstairs and there's so many presents!” Keith looks terrified. “It's Christmas!”

“Okay okay okay okay- it's- okay okay-” Keith falls out of his bed and crawls to the door before he realizes how dire the situation is and _screams._ “Santa came!?”

“That's what I've been telling you!”

Keith is half way down the hallway before he turns tail, sprints back, grabs his lion, and flings himself down the stairs Olympic gymnast style. “We should really get him lessons.” Shiro's too stunned to reply.

“C'mon c'mon _c'mon oh my god Santa came!”_

And Lance really wasn't exaggerating because holy shit, there are _so many presents._ Shiro got him every possible gaming system ever, two hover boards, _a friggin' trampoline,_ and so much other purely kid stuff. Of course, Shiro and Lance thought it'd be good for him to get something unique. Which is where the karate uniform comes from. Keith gasps at it and gets butt naked in front of them and the camera to put it on.

Lance is about to shut off the camera when Keith stops them. “I just!” he fidgets. “I got you two something, too. Santa doesn't come for grown ups so I- thought you'd want stuff, too. To be fair.”

Keith scurries upstairs and comes back with a present he has to use two hands to carry by himself. “Matt helped me a little bit, but only a little bit. I worked really hard, okay?”

Shiro and Lance glance at each other before ripping it open and-

Hasn't Lance cried enough already?

“I did it on construction paper first but then Lance brought me to the art museum so I really wanted to do something kinda like that?”

It's a canvas perfect for a little kid painted with bright blues, reds, and purples; it shows their house in a corner, half of it in existence like Keith forgot to paint it there and did it last minute. Front and center are them, though, all three of them with Keith in the middle holding onto a very large Shiro complete with metal arm and scar. And on his right is Lance, very long legs and very big, blue eyes and even bigger smile. At their feet are adorably painted lions, all the same size as their owners; red the smallest, black the biggest, and blue right in the middle.

Lance wipes his eyes and turns to see Shiro staring at it with wide eyes, like it's the most beautiful piece of artwork he's ever seen in his life- and _it is._ “Baby, it's better than every single piece of art in the world, okay? Every single one.”

“Nu uh. Picasso's better.”

“Picasso can suck it. You're _amazing.”_

When Shiro finds his voice it's scratchy and hoarse and he doesn't even bother to try to fix it. “This is- amazing, Keith. I can't even-” he gives a watery smile. “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith grins so big his face might split and jumps into their laps. “Merry Christmas, papa.” And then he pulls away and looks at Lance. “Everyone has a mommy and daddy but no one has a papa and nanny. And I already have a mama. But I don't have a daddy. So you can be it, okay?”

Holy shit. Lance is nodding so fast the world blurs- or is that his tears? Both? “That's- that's okay- that's great- that's- yes, baby. I can be that, totally, absolutely, uh huh.”

“Can we go set up my games now?”

“Great idea, bud!” Totally not a distraction for his- his dads. For his dads blubbering and crying like babies. Just an original idea.

It takes hours for them to figure everything out- Shiro is hopeless with it all and Keith wants to show them every single game he got which is _a lot-_ but then they're back upstairs out of the theater room and smiling at each other, holding hands.

“You're really okay with that? Being-”

“A dad? Yeah, actually. I'm more than okay. Are you okay with me being the best dad ever and pushing other dads into shame? Are you ready for their unbridled jealousy?”

Shiro laughs, booming and happy. “Bring it on.” He kisses the rise of Lance's cheekbone. “Hold on here, okay? Gotta get something.”

And while Shiro does that Lance sprints to the garage and wrangles out a present hidden right behind one of Shiro's trucks. He checks in on it, sees it's okay, and sprints back in and tries not to smile like an idiot when Shiro comes down with his eyebrows to his hairline.

“You didn't have to-”

“Your other one's over there.” Lance nods to behind the tree where Keith promised secrecy. Shiro purses his lips and places a thin slip of wrapped- rectangle? He's not good at shapes. Shiro approaches the tree like it's a friggin' bomb or something and Lance laughs. “C'mon, big guy, it's not even wrapped! Go get it!”

Lance can't _see_ it but he does hear Shiro startled laugh. “Babe.”

“Lemme see you with it!”

Shiro comes out from their ridiculously big tree holding the biggest thing Lance has ever made. A huge, stuffed, black lion. It even has a _mane._ “Thought you might wanna be with the… _pride?”_ He hits his imaginary cymbals.

Shiro groans but puts it down, walks over, and kisses Lance. “I love it, baby.” He's smiling from ear to ear and if this is the reaction he's getting from _this_ one...His eyes wander to the box behind Lance. “What's that? Baby you didn't-”

“Go look! You don't even have to rip it open, just open the lid.”

Shiro walks over, looks at Lance, looks at the box, back at Lance like he's expecting Ashton Kutcher to pop out with a camera crew, and opens the box.

Looks in.

Gasps.

“No. Way.”

“Take her out!”

Shiro wrangles out a spotted puppy, white with brown and grey spots motted all over her body. She's so tiny she can fit in the palm of Shiro's hand but that doesn't stop her from being the most excited dog  _ever._ “I don't exactly know what she is? Neither did the pound. We're thinking an Australian shepherd mix with a toy breed and some other things.” Shiro's gasping and fully allowing the pup's excited tongue into his mouth. “You said that you missed having a dog so I figured-”

And then Shiros stuffing his face in the dog's fur and trying his best not to show he's crying.

“Oh baby!” Lance goes over and kisses the side of his head. “You like her?”

Shiro nods and clings the dog closer like she'll disappear at any second. “I haven't-” he sniffs and pops his head out. “I haven't had a dog since Armstrong died when I was 17. This means- this means more than you can imagine, Lance.” He doesn't put the dog down but leans in for a kiss anyway, and then another, and then another and another until Lance is laughing breathlessly against his lips.

“Wait- shit- let me-” He holds the dog with one hand and goes back to the table and picks up his present. “You can tear the paper up- _gently,”_ he says, probably sensing Lance's unquenchable blood thirst for wrapping paper.

Lance does- carefully- and sticks out his tongue at Shiro. Destroying wrapping paper is like, the point of Christmas.

He wrinkles his eyebrows. “Wait-” he squints. “Am I reading this right?”

Shiro walks over. “Are you reading something about a trip all around Europe's major cities?” Lance nods dumbly. “Then yes.”

“No. Fucking. Way. Dude I've never- there's three tickets- Keith's coming too? Yes!” Lance is about to jump into Shiro's arms because holy shit holy shit holy shit- when he realizes puppy equals tiny, Lance equals not tiny, and settles on plastering Shiro's face with wet kisses. The puppy gets excited and starts licking both of their faces and inside of noses. And mouths.

Shiro smiles at him. “First family trip?” he offers. “And when we want to be- alone. Or do. Adult things. Alone. I can always get a sitter.” Shiro's ears are red. Now that's a Christmas present all together.

Lance is grinning ear from ear. “I've always wanted to go to fancy dancy Europe! This is- the best, Shiro, this is the best in the world.” He leans in and kisses Shiro on the mouth this time, ignoring the gross wet slobber of puppy against his face. “Love you more than anything,” he murmurs.

There's a sharp tug on both of their legs. “Guys! Stop being gross, let me see the puppy!” He's making grabby hands and Shiro, with a second of hesitancy and an actual pout, hands the pup over to Keith. Keith squeals and holds her like she's a delicate piece of china. “Can I go downstairs and play with her? Please?”

Shiro smiles and nods. “Make sure she doesn’t' get anything in her mouth okay?” Keith nods and actually salutes before bounding down the stairs _squealing._

Lance smiles and holds onto Shiro. “Didn't think you'd give her up that easy. You're half in love.”

“I think I'm full in love, actually.” He still sounds in wonder that he even got the pup. “And besides, there's another gift I wanna give to you.” Lance looks up, tilting his head. “I _told_ you yesterday your body was perfect but...I don't think I showed you that, did I?”

Lance gasps. “Are you saying sex stuff? Because, yes. Oh my god. Yes. Now? Yes.” Lance is about to run upstairs when Shiro picks him up bridal style.

“You're perfect,” he says into Lance's hair. Lance shoves his very red, very hot face in Shiro's neck as they ascend the stairs. _Best Christmas ever._

When he wakes up hours later his phone has 12 missed messages and one text:

_Merry Christmas, hijo._

_Mama._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me!  
> tumblr: bluelioncub  
> twitter: mettaucb


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